Blood on Our Hands
by Sweet Chariot
Summary: HATFIELDS & MCCOYS. Following a grizzly crime, Daisy McCoy, daughter of Randall McCoy, finds herself on the run with the most unlikely of conspirators: "Cap" Hatfield.
1. One

**Hello! What a strange feeling to be back in the land of fan fiction. I've written fan fiction stories here-and-there throughout the years, but nothing has been able to reignite my interest in the task quite like this miniseries. I have a few ideas where I would like to go with this tale, but frankly for the time being, I am just testing the waters to see if anyone is willing to read my little story (which, if so, please feel free to leave me feedback as I am still unsure of myself in this trying medium). I really hope you enjoy this first small bit. Thank you for reading. **

It was the faded blue of late afternoon, sinking down into the depths of purple night, with the sky in between paled to a watery amethyst. Daisy McCoy sat in the old pews of the courthouse, near the door, where she could feel the summer air breeze in and around her. It jumped from person to person within the close confines, carrying with it the scents of sweat, heat, hay, and manure. These were country folk who surrounded her, worked and worn to death by the duty of survival. It was no small wonder that they carried the vestiges of their toil throughout their daily lives.

The smack of a gavel rang through the room, and all fell silent under the watchful eye of the magistrate. Daisy knew little of the man beyond the fact that he was a Hatfield, and that fact alone seemed to signify an unfortunate outcome for her family. She squinted her eyes past the penetrating light of the falling sun that shot through the windows, up to where the man sat at the front of the room. To her, he certainly looked like a Hatfield: dull, stern, and aggressively pig-headed. So much so that even here, in the most seemingly trivial of events, his brow hung low and stark over his dark eyes, forbidding mockery of his courtroom and its rules.

As the magistrate spoke, addressing the issue of whether or not a certain sow belonged to one family or the other, Daisy's eyes roamed the room. It was not that she did not care for the issue at hand, for an entire pig could service the family in food for close to a year. And with the price of any and all seeming to rise every other day, not to mention the rise of members in an already full household, any bit of food was worth its weight in gold. Still, Daisy could not fathom the anger that one bit of confusion incited in grown men, her father being one of those men. Her eyes rested on the back of his head as he sat at the front of the room, proper and pious next to her mother. His movements were rigid and unnatural as he listened to the magistrate's words, as if his weathered limbs were carved of stone.

Across the aisle, on what served as the unofficial Hatfield side of the room, "Devil" Anse, as they called him, seemed more at ease. His shoulders were slouched, his back resting up against the pew as if he felt entirely candid within the confines of such a trying situation. Despite his casual demeanor, Daisy knew that his eyes, if not his entire face, held the same grim promise as his relation at the front of the room, who banged the gavel again to silence the excited titters and laughs of his more wayward family members.

"Y'all keep quiet back there," the magistrate called in his deep voice, and Daisy was reminded of thunder rumbling over the fields. The rowdier ones in the bunch slumped down into their seats, for the moment chastised for their behavior, and the proceedings continued.

Up above, people hung over the rails of the second floor, their faces red and soaked from the heat that rose up in the building. Daisy scanned the faces, imagining the people as the gargoyles she had read of in a book about a place called Paris. Daisy was lucky to be able to read, and even luckier to have an older sister like Roseanna who took her into town on special occasions to buy books about far away and wonderful places. Daisy couldn't quite picture Paris as a whole; she didn't know what such a large town would look like. But the little details, the sides of buildings, the shop windows, the children running through paved roads – that she could see.

The sunlight filtering through the cracks of the roof struck a blond head and illuminated it like bright wheat. Daisy's gaze followed the tall and willowy Johnse Hatfield as he circled the people upstairs, squeezing into an empty spot on the far side of the railing. Daisy couldn't claim to know many of the Hatfields by name, but it was a fact that any and every girl within a 20 mile radius knew who Johnse Hatfield was. Daisy studied his face and wondered what appealed to the girls who fawned over him; what wrought in them the flushed whisperings and ecstatic giggles. If Daisy were being honest with herself, Johnse looked to her like a walking loaf of bread, bland and unseasoned, in need of flavor. As was typical with Daisy's imagination, she began to imagine the cool and aloof Johnse with large bits of rosemary and thyme stuck behind his ears, encircling his forehead like a crown. The mental picture sent laughter boiling up and out through Daisy, and she quickly clasped a hand around her mouth, nearly choking on the sound.

Across from her, on the Hatfield's side of the aisle, a laugh met hers.

The echo of her amusement was deeper, masculine, and Daisy felt the hairs on her neck begin to rise like the hackles of an incited dog. All day long, much like all her life, Daisy had felt the demeaning gazes of those who bore her ill will. They came from Hatfields and their relations; from people who knew nothing of Daisy beyond the fact that her father was Randall McCoy. But for most people, that seemed reason enough to dislike her, to judge her, even to ridicule her. The adults remained quiet, letting their conviction shine through their eyes like the afternoon sun, but the kids were more verbose with their hate of Daisy and her family. They called out to her during those unfortunate occasions when the Hatfields and McCoys were forced to co-mingle: "Look at that one, she got hair as black as pitch! Must be one of Randall's bastards!" "My, have you ever seen such big ole eyes on a girl? She looks like one of my hounds!" "The size of that one! I do believe we've got a hog in a skirt!" The insults piled one atop the other like a heap of bones, hollow in their meaning, especially to the obstinate Daisy, who wouldn't allow herself to be demeaned by friend or foe. At least not on the outside, where a single tear meant victory for the opposition.

She spun in her seat, screwing up her face in her most intimidating visage, ready to give the pesky Hatfield what-for and send him back to his clan with his tail between his legs. But she was met by something unexpected. Only one eye stared back at her. The other was covered by a bandage, wound around the head to hide whatever lurked there. The eye she could see was deep and bright, no longer smiling or laughing, but staring at Daisy in a sort of hushed hesitation. The rest of the face was young, clean, handsome in a broad and quiet way that seemed to exude a sort of familiarity. The expression was open and calm, not asking anything of Daisy; merely looking, and listening, and waiting for something to be conveyed across the barriers of the room and all that sat inside of it. A long strand of hair the color of dark amber fell over the lifted brow, and Daisy thought that she could see awe in that brow, in the way it rose towards Heaven.

Here was a Hatfield that Daisy did not know, and as the two stared at one another, she suddenly knew that this boy, this man, had been watching her for some time.


	2. Two

**Thank you to the people who read & liked the beginning of my story! Such support often serves as my number one means of motivation. Thank you for reading.**

Daisy would not see the Hatfield boy for three long years. In fact, she made it her mission to avoid any and every Hatfield. It started with the fervor of her father's words, and the way he would go on at night, especially if he had been drinking. He painted the Hatfields as wicked and sinful creatures with little wit and even less decency. Having never talked to a Hatfield, but only feeling the sharp burn of their judgments on her, Daisy coupled her ideals of them with the accusations of her father. In the end, she made a vow to avoid any sort of interaction with the scheming Hatfields; she would leave the feuding to the men.

The girl's mistrust of the opposing family was made all the more pronounced by Johnse Hatfield's advantageous corruption of her most beloved of sisters, Roseanna. Daisy remembered the night that Roseanna had gone missing, and the following day, when Roseanna, seemingly safe and sound, had stood before her father and pleaded with him to consent to a Hatfield and McCoy union. Daisy had watched from behind her father, studying her sister closely, listening to each and every word. She saw the tears of joy and then despair well in her sibling's eyes; saw the way her face brightened like the sun when she spoke of the love between Johnse and herself. Daisy had wanted to believe that the feelings and emotions she had read of in novels were real, and that Roseanna, good and sweet sister of hers, was lucky to know what it meant to love. Surely there were married folk in the world who were happier than her ma and pa.

But after her father's rejection of the marriage, things spiraled downward, until Roseanna, pregnant with a Hatfield bastard, was almost unrecognizable. And the lowly Johnse, who had offered shelter to Roseanna all for the benefit of "sowing his wild oats" (as Daisy's father put it), would no longer marry the woman who carried his child. To Daisy, it seemed that Johnse wanted only to produce more little Hatfield fools on any woman who was stupid enough to couple with him. For those reasons, Daisy could not help but revel in the kidnapping of the treacherous Johnse by her brothers. The decision was brash and idiotic at best, and the boys had been beaten black and blue by their father afterwards, but Daisy had to smile when she thought of the treatment Johnse must have endured at the hands of a hothead like Tolbert. Sometimes, late at night, when she missed Roseanna the most (for the poor girl had been sent off to live with their aunt), she dreamed that Johnse was still held in her uncle's old and unused cabin, being tortured for his sins. The dream intensified after the family learned of the marriage between Johnse and a member of their own family, Nancy McCoy. Did cousin Nancy know what had transpired with her new husband in the place where her father was murdered? Daisy sincerely hoped so.

On the rare occasions that Daisy and Roseanna were allowed to be together, Daisy assumed that her older sister was too embarrassed to ever verbally address her past. It was only after the baby had come and gone, leaving Roseanna as dry and empty as an old husk, that she had uttered a single word about her feelings towards Johnse. It had been late one night, after dinner, as the two washed dishes in the sink at their aunt's house. Roseanna began to sob uncontrollably, free of provocation, clutching at the sides of the sink and hovering over it as if she were going to be sick.

"Roseanna!" Daisy had been frightened over her sister's lessening health and the probability of an untimely death. She feared that her sister was having another fit of pain, but when she tried to offer comfort, Roseanna violently shook her head back and forth.

"Boy, did I love him," she whispered through the tears, almost smiling at the remembrance of that small bit of joy in an otherwise sorrowful life. As quick as a flash of lightning, the smile was gone, and she frowned at the nothingness of what she had become. She turned to Daisy then, her eyes flickering in the candlelight. "Whatever you do, Daisy McCoy, don't _ever_ love a Hatfield man."

X X X

Every fall, there was an apple festival for all the folk of both Kentucky and West Virginia. Daisy knew that the event, like so many others, would be a melting pot of Hatfields and McCoys, who would spend the day drinking and fighting with one another. She had considered skipping the thing all together and staying at home, enjoying the prospect of an empty house where she could read in peace and quiet. But there would be a special boy there, a boy who had recently caught Daisy's attention. His name was Thornton, and he was tall, taller than any man in her family, and wildly handsome, with a square jaw covered in black stubble, and eyes the same clear blue as the sky. Daisy felt, at times, that Thornton was too perfect to be real, incredulous of both his looks and his mutual affection of her. Truth be told, Daisy had a hard time believing that any man could find her worthy of being a wife, although such had been the case in the last year or so. For Daisy had grown a good four inches in height, stretching and smoothing away the awkward lumps and bumps of her adolescence. She was still full, that was true, but in a pleasingly feminine way, her weight held in her breasts and hips and thighs. The bones of her face seemed to elongate, too, the cheekbones high and flush with her deep green eyes. And what once was considered by some to be a piggy mouth became full and lush and pink, illuminated against her white skin and ebony hair. Despite all of this, Daisy did not consider herself pretty, for she did not like to define herself in terms of the superficial. But many a man found her pleasing to look upon, including Thornton.

The day began as expected, with Daisy watching the younger children as they played games and socialized, free of the confines of family grudges. She admired them from the sidelines of races and apple-bobbing, smiling and laughing as proudly as if she were their mother. Ma and Pa had been strolling and weaving their way in-and-out of the niceties of seeing many distant relations, and Daisy was happy to be free of such expectations, as she was happy to be free from her older brothers, who lurked about the booze, seeming to prepare themselves for a fight as if it were a planned event. Daisy only cared to see one man on this day, and that was Thornton, who had yet to make his presence known to her.

As the afternoon wore on, a bite of frost working its way into the air, causing Daisy to pull her wrap tighter about herself, a chill raced up her spine, entirely unrelated to the weather. As she sat at a decorated table, her large eyes cast out towards the rambunctious children, she felt the inexplicable pressure of a gaze upon her back. She thought it be Thornton, who was merely spying on her from afar, but when she turned to look over her shoulder, it was not so.

On the far side of the grassy expanse, through dozens of other people and faces, Daisy saw the Hatfield boy, the same one from the courtroom all those years back, staring solidly at her. She knew enough about the family now to know that he was called "Cap," the knowledge of his identity validated by his infamous milky eye. _So that's what was underneath the bandage_, Daisy thought to herself, never breaking the gaze that locked between the two as if held together by a rope pulled taut. Daisy had heard folk talk of Cap and his ghost eye, of the way it incited unnerving chills in women and children, but she had never thought to put the rumor of his affliction together with the boy across the aisle who had been so open and honest in his appraisal of her. As she gazed at him now, the face as detailed as if he were sitting beside her, Daisy found that she was not disgusted or disturbed by the eye. If anything, she was fascinated by the frankness of it, and how it seemed to serve this boy, this man, Cap, as well as two good eyes on any other man. When she pulled her stare from the mismatched eyes, the face was as handsome as she remembered it, but older now, with stubble and facial hair and the ravages of living life. Cap shifted his shoulders, his upturned collar moving back and forth with the motion, and pushed his hat back and off of his face. Daisy was certain that he intended to walk over to her –

"Daisy!" A deep voice broke the spell, and a startled Daisy dragged her eyes from the Hatfield boy. It was Thornton, hovering over her in the failing sun so that his shadow wrapped around her. He was so large and square that the darkness swallowed her whole, and Daisy felt herself longing for the sun and its warmth, for the feel of its yellow glow upon her skin. Without meaning to, she imagined the hot orange rays falling over Cap, striking his hair like a crown, brightening that eye and whatever hid beneath it.

"Thornton!" she gasped, holding a white hand to her heaving chest. "You scared me. Where have you been?"

"Now don't you worry about that," Thornton replied, giving Daisy a good once over. He was slightly swaying where he stood, his eyelids heavy. It was late in the day, and Daisy knew that most of the men would be nearing drunk. She didn't want to believe such of her flawless Thornton, especially after hearing one or two nasty rumors of his drunken temper, but Thornton was, after all, a man, entitled to drink as he pleased. Daisy began to question the liberties of men in her mind, but was again interrupted by Thornton's booming voice.

"Where do you go when you get like that, you pretty little bird?" his speech was slightly slurred.

"Get like what?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"You get this look in your eyes, like you're not here, but like you're somewhere far away," he belched and laughed at the sound. "Where do you go?"

"I don't know," Daisy replied. "I guess I'm just thinkin'." Thornton laughed at that answer, clutching his belly with his two meaty paws.

"Now don't you go thinkin' too much, honey – it ain't good for a woman's delicate sensibilities." Daisy knew well enough that this was the way that most men thought, but she had never heard such come out of Thornton's mouth. She thought to chastise him, to tell him that she was allowed to think when and what she wanted to. But she knew that it would only cause hurt on both of their parts, and she did not wish to quarrel with the man she hoped to marry. So she simply smiled, a sad and complacent smile that did not reach her eyes. Thornton, believing himself to be in the right all along, returned the smile, proud of his assertion. His drunken eyes drifted down Daisy's face, over her plump lips, to rest on her breasts.

"Why don't you and I take a walk, sugar?" Thornton extended a hand to Daisy, and she hesitated only slightly before accepting the offer. As she slipped her hand inside Thornton's large and soft palm, she marveled at the way it swallowed her tiny bones, almost crushing them as he wrapped her arm through his.

X X X

The two talked amicably as they strolled further and further into the woods. The daylight was soft and diffused, the sun sinking lower with every step they took. Daisy had felt a sort of fear in taking a walk with a highly drunk Thornton, but he was proving to be as much of a gentleman as she knew him to be. He guided her easily along the path, pushing branches out of her way, even grabbing hold of her around the waist to lift her high above a long and deep puddle. She had laughed, breathlessly, safe on the other side of the obstacle, reveling in the comforting press of his grip around her small middle. The Hatfield boy was all but forgotten.

When at last the sounds of the festivities had all but faded away, Thornton stopped Daisy in a clearing under a low hanging branch whose red and orange leaves served as a canopy above their two heads. He boldly placed one hand back around Daisy's waist, his fingers fanning out to brush the top of her full rear. Daisy felt flushed with excitement, too dizzy with the hope of a kiss to be indignant towards Thornton's roaming hand. Slowly, Thornton leaned his big head down towards Daisy's, where she became momentarily choked by the stench of alcohol rolling off of his breath. She began to cough against the smell, placing her palms flat against Thornton's solid chest in an attempt to distance herself from the stink.

"Thornton, how much have you had to drink?" She asked without thinking, turning her head to the side. Thornton froze, his pursed lips falling slack, his sleepy eyes becoming dark and angry. He pulled away from Daisy, but his hand remained in place.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, and Daisy panicked, afraid that one wrong move had jeopardized their entire relationship.

"It's just that – your breath…" Daisy let her voice trail off, casting her eyes down towards the forest floor where the leaves crunched and shifted under her weight like prismatic sheets of paper. She couldn't bear to see the ire in Thornton's eyes, or the way his brow fell in disappointment. "We should go back…" she began to say, pulling away from Thornton to walk back towards the path. He violently clenched her upper arm, yanking her back towards him.

"We go when _I_ say we go," he insisted, his face now black with malice. A war was raging inside of Daisy: a battle between her fear and anger and disbelief, all against the requirements of duty and love. She thought that she could have loved Thornton, and that the rest of their happy life together would grow from that love: a home, a family, a place to call their own, quiet and hidden from the incessant feuding of the Hatfields and McCoys. Where would her life go now? How could she rectify this problem?

"Thornton, please. You've just had a little too much to drink is all. Let's go back to the festival and get you somethin' to eat." The suggestion sounded reasonable to Daisy, but Thornton's expression only deepened. She felt his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm, like red embers of a fire. He was burning her alive. "Thornton, you're hurting me…"

"You women are all the same," he said through clenched teeth. "You tease us with your charms and your smiles, and then you say we can't have what was promised to us. You are just like you're whore sister…"

Daisy's free hand connected with Thornton's face, not in a meek and simple slap, but in a punch like her brothers had taught her. She heard the smack of skin against skin, like meat on a slab, and felt the impact reverberate through her entire arm, up into her small shoulder that began to ache. Thornton's heavy head fell back and away, and he relinquished his grip on Daisy's arm. But in a moment he was renewed again, quickly shaking himself back into place, the thick bones of his face unmoved by her attack. His visage was obsidian, deadly, obliterating what small shred of confidence Daisy had left in the good and kind Thornton that she had remembered.

Daisy knew that she had to run, that she had to free herself from this threat. In a split second she was gone, holding her skirts high as she swished through the leaves. Her shawl fell away from her and she let it go, not wanting to hinder herself. Even so, Thornton caught up to her in easy and long strides, wrapping his arms around her and throwing all of his weight into the hold so that the two fell to the ground in a heap of limbs. Daisy screamed and kicked and scratched, digging her nails deep into the tender flesh of Thornton's cheek. He howled in pain and pushed himself onto her, in the same motion pulling his fist back and then down again to connect with her own cheek.

The world stopped spinning, everything that had been racing now slowed to a dull and relentless motion. Daisy could no longer hear the birds in the trees, the people at the festival, the leaves as they crunched underneath her. There was only a muted ringing in her ears, and the knowledge that a man lay atop her, taking advantage of her prone form. She felt him fondle her breasts, tearing open the buttons of her blouse to get at the skin underneath. She felt his hand between her legs, working through the layers of skirts to reach the most delicate part of her. She felt his breath against her neck, putrid and hot, and the whispers he fed to her ears.

"This'll teach ya, you stupid bitch. I'll show you how a man fucks a woman…" Daisy heard all and knew all, and yet her limbs had filled with lead, just as her head had filled with cotton. She could do nothing but scream from inside of the shell of her body as Thornton clumsily tried to take his pleasure of her. _I'm going to end up just like Roseanna_, she thought. _Who will love me now?_


	3. Three

**Sorry if I've confused anyone by replacing the chapter. This one is essentially the same as the one posted yesterday – I just made a few grammatical corrections (once a perfectionist, always a perfectionist). Thank you for reading!**

In her mind, in the stony depths of her imagination, Daisy was upon a ship, sailing across a great expanse of water, wider and deeper than any river she had ever known. The sky was pewter, the water black, and she was the only person aboard the vessel, swaying with the gentle rock of the sea. All at once, phantom hands were upon her; hands of the crew; hands of strangers. The boat began to turn and pitch with the increasingly fervent tide, and her knees buckled beneath her. She was pressed down against the wooden planks, with the weight of a dozen invisible men sitting atop her, grabbing her, pulling her, yanking at the frail shreds of her dress. She began to scream and kick against the unbearable weight, until the gray of the sky parted, and the fading blue of reality returned.

Daisy woke from her stupor with Thornton still upon her, still attacking her. It was as if no time had passed; as if the world were waiting for her to come to her senses. She was meant to be free. Shaking the persistent ringing from her ears, Daisy acted. With what little might she had left in her depleted body, she pressed her palms against Thornton's heaving chest, building inches between the two struggling forms. Thornton was momentarily stunned by Daisy's new consciousness, and made the fatal mistake of looking down upon his victim, the blood lust still apparent in his eyes. In that still and quiet moment, Daisy drove her knee up and into Thornton's exposed manhood. He yelped like a wounded hound, his face closing with the pain, and crumbled upon Daisy in a heap. As Thornton's hands found a new mission, a desperate need to comfort his wounded self, Daisy seized the opportunity to push him up and off of her. She scrambled to her feet, the leaves shuffling against her backwards retreat, until she stood a good distance away from the danger. She breathed heavily, watching Thornton writhe on the ground.

"Thornton…" Daisy did not currently possess the good sense to calculate the severity of her personal damage. In her kind and honest heart, she still worried for the man she had believed herself to love. She saw him lying there in the forest debris, whimpering like a child, and thought that maybe alcohol had a stronger hold on men than she could ever fathom. Slowly, gingerly, she approached Thornton.

"Thornton…" she implored, reaching out a hand towards his shoulder. His head snapped up towards the sound, his mouth foaming, his eyes red. He lunged towards Daisy, meaning to wrap his arms around her legs and send her sprawling once more.

CRACK.

There was the sound of lightning over a meadow, of stone falling upon stone, and Thornton's face emptied and fell. He toppled to the ground like a demolished tower, his head smacking the earth just an inch shy of Daisy's feet. Her eyes grew big and unbelieving as she studied the lifeless body before her, incredulous of the small bit of red that began to well and pool on the back of Thornton's head. She was certain that he had been shot, but when she looked up, she saw Cap Hatfield standing there in the clearing, brandishing a large rock. He did not smile or boast; his face was grim, calculating. His one good eye danced back and forth between Daisy and the still form of Thornton.

"You alright?" he finally asked, slowly, quietly. He dropped the rock and it fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"Yes," Daisy whispered in response, her wet eyes traveling from Cap's concerned face down to the blood on Thornton's head that had, for the moment, stopped spilling. "Did you kill him?" she wondered aloud, and a breath escaped Cap, as if he were amused by the question.

"Shit, no," he replied, vigorously shaking his head. A smile began to play upon his lips, but when he saw the tears building higher in Daisy's green eyes, the amusement vanished. "I just pitched a rock his way, is all. I was ready to do it again if he didn't fall the first time." At this he swept a hand in the direction of the fallen stone, and Daisy nodded dumbly.

There was silence for a moment, the familiar sounds of the forest coming back to life around Daisy. She watched the unchanging body of Thornton, unable to properly wrap her head around the occurrences of what felt to be the very second before. She gave him one more glance, and then turned her face towards Cap, who watched her from a few feet away. His navy coat was buttoned, his collar turned up, reminding Daisy of the cold she should have felt.

"Will he be OK?" she asked, her voice a little stronger. She bravely met Cap's gaze, her head high, her shoulders thrown back, challenging his judgment of her. He looked back at her with the same frankness that she had seen in the courthouse, one eye a deep shade of green or blue that Daisy could not discern from where she stood. It reminded her of the bottom a pond, caught in the dazzling rays of the sun, something strange and beautiful.

"He'll be fine," Cap said with a sigh. "He'll just have one helluva headache when he comes to." He turned his head to one side and appraised Daisy's condition. "Will _you_ be OK?" At that, the tears began to fall harder, and Daisy thought of her family, of her mother, of her father, of what they would say about all of this.

"I don't know," the words cracked and fell away, Daisy's sad gaze never leaving Cap's as he took first one step and then another towards her. He stood before her, towering over her short frame, curving his body towards hers as if in protection. Cap dropped his eyes to examine the blood that dripped from Daisy's nose. Delicately, reverentially, he raised his hands, cupping Daisy's cheeks with his cold palms, and gently turned her head to the side so that he may better see the damage caused by Thornton. His jaw tensed, his teeth gritted; his visage darkened.

"I _oughta_ kill him," Cap said quietly, and Daisy felt the weight of the words, of the ring in their steadfast promise.

"You did enough," she said, and again their eyes locked, Cap's hands still holding Daisy's face. "You saved me from…" The words evaporated in the air, and Cap nodded once, smally, to acknowledge the things that Daisy had left unsaid. She wanted to shower him with gratitude, to tell him that he had saved both her body and her soul. But all she could do is gaze into his face, her big eyes now glittering with wonder instead of shame.

"You know, most people don't look me in the eye," Cap said absently, like the thought had escaped his lips before he could catch it. He smiled a bashful smile, and this time Daisy smiled back, a soft and sad smile that seemed to recognize the pain in his words. Cap looked upon Daisy, his face inches from hers, his expression distant, dreamy, like the viewer of a great work of art seen up close for the first time.

Without warning, he dropped his hands, and his face turned tense and alert.

"Evenin', Calvin," Cap called without looking away. Daisy turned towards the path, where her brother stood with a gun trained on Cap's head.


	4. Four

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading the story and sending me positivity! I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I have a ton of ideas, so you guys might be seeing quite a few new chapters soon. I am determined to finish this! Again, thanks for reading.**

"Daisy," Calvin beckoned from behind the rifle. "I suggest you step away now 'less you want to get blood on them clothes of yours." The idea was sent forth in goodwill on Calvin's part, his voice pleasant and easy as if he were commenting on the fine weather. Daisy's face grew hot and red under her brother's foolish scrutiny.

"Calvin!" she admonished, feet planted firmly next to Cap, whose breath turned short and quick. Through distant observation, Cap appeared calm. His shoulders slumped, his mouth pulled taut in a repressed smile. But Daisy felt, through her immediacy to this strange Hatfield, that he was not so complacent. He was frightened of the gun, of the possibility of being blown to a million tiny bits, and inexplicably, Daisy sensed that the fear related to her presence.

"Daisy," Calvin called again, his eyes never venturing beyond Cap's bored expression. "Are you gonna move or am I gonna have to kill him right in front of you?"

"Stop this right now, Calvin!" Daisy cried in distress, and Calvin's confidence wavered. He looked to his sister's imploring face. "He didn't do nothin' to me," she explained.

"But," Calvin began, the gun sliding off his shoulder. "I heard you scream." Daisy shook her head in quiet disbelief, desperately seeking to give her sibling the benefit of the doubt. Surely the scene was warped to a boy like Calvin: someone, like herself, who had grown up in the old Hatfield and McCoy feud. It was only in his nature to be suspicious, even violent, towards those of the opposing family. Daisy held her hands up towards Calvin, beseeching him to listen and adopt some semblance of sense.

"Calvin, Cap saved me," she stated simply, bringing one arm around towards Cap so that it briefly pressed against the front of his coat. Daisy felt a warmth radiating from Cap's chest, a sort of charge that shot up her arm into the rest of her body. She quickly glanced at Cap and found him staring back: he had felt it, too.

"Saved you from what?" Calvin asked. He dropped the rifle towards the ground, letting it hang loose in his arms. His eyes followed the trajectory of the lax gun, through the piles of brown and golden leaves, past the feet of Daisy and Cap, to the inanimate body of Thornton, sprawled on the ground like a spider crushed under a boot.

"Christ Almighty, Daisy," Calvin whispered, his incredulous eyes absorbing the scenes of a scuffle: the rustled leaves, the discarded stones, the bits of blood. "What did you do? Is that Thornton? Is he…_dead_?"

"He ain't dead," Cap answered for Daisy. Calvin frowned at the intrusion. "He's just…sleepin'. Had too much to drink."

"I don't believe I was askin' you, Hatfield," Calvin spat, inching towards Cap, readying himself for a fight. Daisy stepped between the two.

"That is enough," she said, looking only to Calvin. She heaved a sigh and placed her hands on her hips in defeat, shaking her head towards her sibling. She was bone tired, worn down to her wick by the events of the day, both good and bad. Her skull felt like it had been cracked like an egg and was slowly being pulled apart by tiny and eager fingers. She wanted to stay there in the leaves, away from all of the explanations and lies that were inevitable in her near future. She could curl up like some lost and wild animal and sleep in the dirt, amongst the small creatures who knew little of the world beyond the necessity to live from one day to the next.

"I'll explain it to you on the way home," she said to Calvin, her arms dropping to her sides. She examined the tops of the trees and the way they had blackened entirely. Night was upon them, and if Daisy and Calvin did not make it home soon, there would be trouble with their Pa. She turned towards Cap, who had remained stock still, only his eyes, one concerned, the other ghoulish, tracing the plains of Daisy's face. She saw herself through those eyes: her own were used and red, her skin pale and translucent like the petal of a flower. The blood from her injury had dried to the color of rust, running down towards her mouth like a vein, or a path on a map, leading Cap towards something hidden and sweet. She blushed a violet-red under his fixation, and Cap smiled at the fervency of her nature veiled under the glass of her fixed countenance.

"Thank you," she said shyly, as if they had not shared the tumult of unspoken emotions that rushed between them before Calvin's arrival. "For everything." Cap tipped his hat to her.

"Don't mention it," he replied, watching the reluctance in Daisy's step as she went to join her brother on the far side of the clearing. "You get her home safe now," Cap said with a smile, and Calvin grimaced.

X X X

"So you're tellin' me that a Hatfield saved you?" Calvin had asked the question a dozen times, and Daisy filled each answer with the same bashful nod. As far as her brothers were concerned, Daisy had always harbored a special place in her heart for Calvin, and she knew that he felt the same affinity towards her. Perhaps it was their appearances that bonded them so. Both with their onyx hair, their bright eyes, their amicable and humane dispositions. Daisy knew, deep down inside of herself, that Calvin's threat towards Cap had been superficial at best.

"Thornton was the one that attacked me," she explained again, and Calvin's dark brow furrowed in confusion.

"Thornton?" he asked as they trudged along the darkened path. "But, but he's crazy about you, Daisy."

"I thought so, too," she conceded to her own hubris, ashamed of her confidence in Thornton's affections towards her. Much like Johnse Hatfield, Thornton had wanted only one thing from Daisy, one thing that Daisy would not give so freely as a favor.

The two walked on in silence, their heads bent towards each another. They had always shared everything: their joys, their failures, their secrets and dreams. Calvin did not toy with Daisy's inexplicable necessity to be a modern woman, one who was equal to her spouse in almost every way. He knew that the books she read piled up inside her brain like a library, feeding her the sort of information that most women could not comprehend. In a way, Calvin admired his sister's relentless desire to shun societal expectations in favor of her own inclinations. She was more human that way, more primal, following instinct over cultural requirement. Still, Daisy knew that Calvin took issue with finding another of his sisters in such close proximity to a Hatfield.

"It don't mean nothin', Calvin," Daisy assured her brother, watching the moonlight flicker over his dark head. "He was only checkin' to make sure I wasn't injured. I doubt I'll ever speak to him again." Calvin nodded and looked over to her, his newly stubbled cheeks a testament to his manhood. _You're just a boy_, Daisy thought, _paying for the sins of the father._

"I reckon I should thank him," Calvin supplied, and a smile spread across his youthful face. "I won't, but I reckon I should." The weight of the day fell off of Daisy then, dropping around her like sacks of sugar. She was safe, although not entirely relinquished from the gripping truths afforded by the hours before. Thornton was violent and small-minded, dangerous to Daisy and her wellbeing. Her life would be different now, turning itself towards some new goal entirely unrelated to marriage. Perhaps she would grow into a spinster, living with Roseanna and their aunt, spending her days in silent servitude. And Cap – she didn't think she would see him again, not for some time, anyway. But privately, in the small hours of the morning, when the rest of the family slumbered about her, Daisy would remember the feel of Cap's hands upon her face; of the way his mismatched eyes stared and studied; of the pure and open energy that radiated off of his body, pulling her towards him. She would cherish those moments.

"Just one more thing, Calvin," Daisy said to her brother, holding out a hand to stay his onward trek. He turned towards her. "Please don't tell Ma or Pa about this. I couldn't bear to think of their reactions." Calvin thought for a long second, finally nodding his head.

"Alright, Daisy," he agreed. "Let's get you cleaned up."


	5. Five

**OK I'm clearly averaging more than two chapters a week, but like I said, I'm having too much fun writing this story. Plus I'll be gone on vacation next week and I may not be able to write much during that time. So I guess I'm compensating for that, as well. Enjoy!**

In the days following the incident, Daisy's cheek swelled to the size of a small apple, her skin darkening to a blue bruise that distorted her beauty. All in the McCoy household were curious of the origins of the injury, no one more so than her mother, who chided Daisy for her apparent clumsiness.

"Fell at the festival?" the older woman had asked one afternoon as she and Daisy fed the chickens that lived in a small enclosure behind the home. "What on earth were you doin', Daisy? Were you _drunk_?" Daisy had winced at the accusation, at the memories it provoked in her mind. For a brief and dark moment, she could see only the angry fist of an intoxicated Thornton, descending on her with all the force of a bolder tumbling down a cliff.

"Of course not, mama," Daisy had answered quietly, throwing the feed out towards the chickens and their eager pecks. "I was just being careless."

Her mother had shook her head in disapproval, but had said no more on the matter. In fact, after the first initial questions, everyone seemed to forget about Daisy's face. Unless, of course, the boys, returning from an adventure, hyped up on adrenaline and testosterone, entered the house too brashly and came face-to-face with the beast that had once been their sister. They called her names, as young men are wont to do, and teased her for her new affliction. "Melon head!" "Pumpkin face!" "Goodness me, Daisy, I wouldn't let Thornton see you like that!" Only Calvin remained silent, always standing a distance behind the others, measuring Daisy's expression. She never allowed her features to alter into anything beyond an amiable smile, teasingly smacking one brother or another for the sort of jokes that had always been a part of their sibling repertoire. Calvin was the sole McCoy boy to take note of the coldness in Daisy's eyes, hanging high above her plastered grin like the icy peaks of mountains.

In time, the bruise diminished and the swelling deflated, until Daisy had returned to the delicate and quiet creature that she was before the realization of Thornton's anger. She was able to leave the house again if she pleased, to attend dances and festivals and trips to visit her sister Roseanna. But Daisy did not venture outside of the confines of her solitude for some time, afraid of what waited for her back in the real world, where people were prone to gossip. What if she came upon Thornton? What would she do? What would _he_ do? She had heard through her brothers that Thornton had stumbled out of the woods long after the festival was over, complaining of an ache in his head that persisted for three long days. From what Daisy could tell of the small scraps of information she received from her family members, Thornton had said nothing of the scuffle, and Daisy silently prayed that the blow to his head had wiped the entire event from his memory.

And Cap…what of Cap? Even if there was news of him and his brave attack on Thornton, her siblings were not likely to relay the message back to Daisy. He was, after all, a Hatfield. In that way especially, life returned to what was once deemed normal. The home was quiet, serious, Ma and Pa worn down by their daily lives and their seemingly increasing dislike of one another. They were too distracted by their own problems, by their mistrust of people like the Hatfields, to take notice of Daisy's newly reclusive habits. They did not seem to mind that the once vibrant girl now spent most of her days – when she wasn't working, that is – in the corner of the bed she shared with her smaller siblings. She pretended to read, as was always her way, but truly she was ruminating over the prospect of a dim and hopeless future in which she could not hope to be independent. That was the trick of the time: the dependency on a husband, on an open-minded man, to free a woman from her familial oppression so that she may become some semblance of autonomous. Daisy decided that the whole thing was foolish, especially if married life meant a quiet endurance of what her mother and father had, or worse, of what Thornton would offer her. She began to relish the idea of a peaceful existence with Roseanna and their aunt.

X X X

A month after Thornton's attack, Calvin came knocking on Daisy's door. It was early afternoon, the bright sun spilling through the small square window above Daisy's big communal bed. She lay on her stomach, sprawled across the misshapen expanse diagonally so that she consumed as much space as possible. This was the only time of day when the bed was entirely hers. She was trying desperately to read a book on Joan of Arc, a female warrior from centuries ago who was burned alive for her convictions. But Daisy could not concentrate, chalking it up to the chill in the air, or the screams of the children playing outside; anything, really, but the truth.

"Daisy?" Calvin said quietly, and she sighed, closing the book and craning her neck back over her shoulder to look at her brother in the doorway. The light from outside hit his face in a brilliant square of white, illuminating his eyes. "What are you doin'?"

"Nothin', I reckon," she replied, turning back around to rest her heavy head on a curled fist. The day was unrelenting in its brightness.

"No," Calvin said, coming around the bed to look upon Daisy's face. He pulled a chair forward from the corner of the room and pushed aside the clothes that piled atop it. "I mean, what are you doin' to yourself?" Daisy's eyes met her brother's.

"What do you mean?" she feigned ignorance. Calvin's concern had been palpable, reaching across time and space to ignite a sort of gnawing guilt in Daisy's heart. She did not want to disappoint her favorite brother, but she didn't think that anything could be done for it. She was wilted, used, wary of everything and everyone.

"You know what I mean," his gaze did not falter, but matched hers more fervently. "You've been mopin' for weeks about what Thornton did to you, Daisy, and I'm gettin' sick and tired of it."

"_You're_ gettin' sick and tired of it?" Daisy flatly mocked, her interest suddenly taken by a loose thread in the bed's quilt. Perhaps she could make bedding for happy families once she went to live at her aunt's house. That would serve as a promising means of income.

"That's not what I meant," Calvin clarified. "I meant I'm gettin' sick and tired of you lettin' someone like Thornton control your entire life." Daisy hesitated, the pause filling the small room with Calvin's anticipation of her reply.

"You don't know what he did to me, Calvin," she said slowly and softly, and Calvin sighed and sat back in the chair, looking about himself in defeat.

"I know enough. I know what you've been like since then, and I know it's not who you really are, Daisy. You are so smart, sometimes too smart for your own good, and you're lettin' some drunken fool like Thornton take that and everything else away from you. He's just one person, Daisy – one unimportant person who can't do nothin' but drink and beat on women. Are you gonna let someone like that control the rest of your life?"

Daisy spent a moment pouring over Calvin's words, like a river rushing over stones. Deep down inside the most rational part of herself, she knew that Calvin was right; that she was too intelligent to let the violent advances of Thornton dictate her entire being. She tried to imagine the person she had been before the day of that festival, numbering all of her dreams and desires. The sights, the sounds, the places she needed to visit, the things she needed to try. The world was too large a place to let one small flaw dirty the whole experience. _He's just one man_, she thought. _There are others…_ Still, a veil of hurt hung over Daisy's demeanor.

"I don't know," she partly conceded to Calvin, never affording her brother, even in the toughest of times, the opportunity to boast.

"Listen," he said, pulling himself forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "There's a barn dance tonight, just down the road at the old Thomas farm. I want you to come with me."

"A dance?" Daisy echoed, lifting her eyes to glare at Calvin's hopeful face. "Calvin, I don't think I'm ready for…"

"And when will you be ready, huh? In another month? Another year? Excuse the language, Daisy, but you've already let that sonofabitch take up enough of your life. He don't deserve no more."

Daisy considered the questions that hung suspended in the air. Downstairs she heard the front door open and slam, and recognized the familiar and heavy step of her father's boots. He called out to his wife, forgoing the formalities of arrival to slide into another speech on the shortcomings of the Hatfields and all the folk who were like them. Daisy's father was consumed by that hate, his life spent in bondage to the people and things he would rather the world be without.

"I'll go," Daisy said.


	6. Six

The barn was old and empty, ancient stacks of hay pushed against the walls to make room in the middle for a makeshift stage standing a few feet off the ground. Upon the platform, a mismatch of men played their respective instruments excitedly. There was an eager fiddler, an enthusiastic guitarist, and even a man whistling into a jug, all of the sounds merging together into something fast-paced and melodious. Circling the band and their pedestal were young folk from both near and far, shunning the decorum of civilized social outings in favor of more scandalous behaviors. Couples danced closely in the firelight, bodies touching, mouths connecting without shame.

Daisy sat in one of many chairs along the edge of the excitement, near the free flowing kegs of whiskey. She tapped her feet to the music, her demeanor that of a chaperone rather than a participant. Within moments of arriving, Daisy had made it her mission to find somewhere to camp out for the night, preferably within the recesses of the shadows where the flickers of fire could not reach her face. She had promised Calvin that she would attend the dance with him, but she had made no vow towards participation or enjoyment. If anything, her sole pleasure lied in the candles along the walls and the way they slowly melted and pooled, gauging the falling hours. _Surely Calvin will want to leave soon, _Daisy thought to herself a few hours in, even as she spied her brother on the far side of the barn, dancing a sort of jig with a pretty brunette.

There came the pointed clearing of a throat from nearby, and Daisy turned to find Cap Hatfield looking down on her, his elbow resting lazily on one of the kegs. He smiled slowly, the expression pulling across his face in small inches. Daisy could not deny herself the pleasure of returning the smile, even if her own joy paled under the apparent brightness of Cap's. He shoved off of his perch and grabbed an empty chair, pulling it over to where Daisy was. His knees brushed hers as he sat.

"Evenin'," Cap greeted with a sigh, and Daisy nodded primly, her hands balling into fists in her lap. She knew that she must be ablaze under Cap's eyes, but she could not shake her bashfulness. Cap harbored some subtle and unspoken confidence that unnerved Daisy, as if he was assured of any outcome in his favor. Daisy thought that maybe she, too, had once held that sort of youthful aplomb, but the notion had been battered, if not entirely terminated, by Thornton's actions.

"How are you?" Cap asked, sensing Daisy's reluctance to speak. He leaned far back in his chair, sending the two front legs up off the filthy ground. He was all casual indifference, and Daisy was a giant ball of nerves.

"I'm fine," she replied meekly, meeting his gaze. Time stopped for a moment, the barn and all its sights and sounds falling away.

"You're doin' it again," Cap said quietly, letting the chair fall to the ground. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning into her presence. Daisy looked away, ashamed of her gawking.

"Doin' what?" she asked, her attention suddenly taken by the frantic affections of a young couple not 10 feet away. Cap followed the trajectory of Daisy's inquisitive observation, smiling to himself.

"You _were_ lookin' me in the eye," he said, his full concentration returning to Daisy. She heard the amusement in his tone and slowly spun to find him repressing a smile. He was toying with Daisy, trying his best to make light of her mood. She could not help but smile, and the two laughed, the sounds escaping their mouths like quick and easy breaths. It was the first time that Daisy had truly smiled all night.

As suddenly as the joy had spread across Cap's face, it simmered again, until his visage was stony and serious. He spoke softly, near enough to Daisy for her to hear his quiet words. Without thought, she let her posture fall into him, so that their heads nearly touched.

"How you been?" Cap asked, and Daisy easily heard the implications in his voice. He was not asking after her chores, after her reading, after her family and their wellbeing. He wanted to know how she was coping with the Thornton ordeal, and whether or not she had shared the truth with other members of the McCoy family. He wanted to know how she was surviving, and if she needed anything from him. He wanted to know if she was OK, unharmed both mentally and physically. Daisy caught all of these silent utterances in Cap's concern, and her heart warmed to him, her face softening, her shoulders slumping in relief.

"I'm fine," Daisy whispered, a genuine affection crawling across her cheeks. Cap's eyes roamed her face, as if he were committing every inch to memory. Normal and fogged alike followed the high arch of her dark brows; the thick black lashes that rimmed eyes the clear and pristine green of emeralds; a pale nose, dotted in brown freckles; full lips, pink and soft as pillows. Cap leaned further into Daisy, feeling her quickened breath upon his face.

"Would you like to dance?" Cap asked, and Daisy greedily consumed the scent of him. He was earth and dirt and man, gathered together with smoke and fire and the faintest hint of whiskey. Not the sour tinge of whiskey that Daisy had smelled upon Thornton, but the warmth of it, the feel of it rolling down her throat to pool in her belly.

"Sure," she said, and she held out a small, white hand to Cap, who enveloped it in his own larger, darker one. Daisy felt every synapse pop and fizz, inching up her arm, bisecting into her head and stomach. She became lightheaded and dreamy, floating upon a cloud, as Cap guided her out onto the dance floor, the hay crunching beneath their feet.

The music had slowed, bodies swaying lazily around the two. Daisy had never danced with a boy, had never even thought of the mechanics of it, but Cap anticipated her worries. He draped her hand lightly over his shoulder, holding the other in his warm grip. Daisy's temperature rose as Cap slid his free hand down her side, letting it rest around her waist. The two stayed like that for some time, Cap several inches taller than Daisy's small frame, smiling down upon her. She met his gaze boldly but coyly, batting her eyelashes, filling the traditional structures of flirtation. Later, Daisy would not remember her instinct to perform a sort of mating ritual in front of Cap, for it did not seem to be a necessary facet of her levelheaded character. But in the moment, beside the burning fire, with the sweet whining of a fiddle, Daisy's nature would allow her nothing less than a desperate bid to possess this man.

"Imagine what our Pa's would say if they could see us now," the thought slipped absently from Daisy's mouth, and Cap chuckled, his eyes scanning the expanse of the barn.

"I reckon they wouldn't be too pleased," he replied. "But if I always listened to my Pa, I doubt I would have much fun in life." Daisy had to giggle at that, imagining the rules of her own pigheaded father. She hesitated, looking away from Cap, even as their bodies inched closer together. In certain turns, she could feel her chest press against his.

"How did you know, Cap?" she began, and Cap's eyes brightened. It was clear to both parties, then, that they had each assessed one another from afar, dispelling the need for proper introductions. "How did you know where Thornton and I was?" Cap's face fell with the mention of Thornton's name, and Daisy instantly regretted the question.

"I'd been watchin' you," he admitted. "And I'd been watchin' him, too. I saw the look on your face when you two walked off, and I knew that somethin' wasn't right."

"So you followed us?" Daisy prompted, and Cap nodded.

"I did," Cap looked away again, up and over Daisy's head. "I guess I should be ashamed to admit that, but I'm glad I followed you. I'd do it again if I had to." Without thinking, Daisy pulled her hand from Cap's shoulder and brought it to his cheek, pressing her palm against the stubble and hair that grew there. She dragged his head down to hers again, until his eyes, shocked and delighted, found hers.

"Thank you," she whispered, admiring the flicker of candlelight in Cap's milky eye, of the way the flames played off his golden hair. Daisy's hand slid down his face, over the column of his tanned neck, to rest upon his chest, her fingers lightly rubbing at the soft and worn fabric of his shirt. She felt his heart bounding forward to meet her touch.

"Daisy…" Cap's voice fell away, his hand around her waist pulling her closer to him until she was pressed against his entirety, safe inside the sphere of his reach.

Across the barn, a drunk let out an animal howl, and the music resumed its feverish pace. A raucous fight broke out in a corner, and folk nearby, liquored up, shouted their encouragement. On the darkened edges of the large room, couples became more animated in their ardor, men thrusting clumsy hands up under the skirts of their partners, finding the place that produced squeals of delight. The spell had been broken, Daisy and Cap thrust back into the harsh and sickly reality of the world around them. Cap took one last long look about the barn, his eyes settling on something in the direction of the brawl. He shook his head once, taking Daisy's hand in his.

"Come on," he said, guiding her towards the door. "Let's get some air."

X X X

Outside the world was quiet, the barn blazing with heat and life like a red dot on a blue map. The fresh air felt invigorating against Daisy's warm skin, breathing the sweet coolness of autumn back into her being. She and Cap walked in silence for a time, their hands tightly clasped, until they were far enough from the party to be free of the rowdy noise. Cap found a tree stump, a giant relic of an ancient beast, on the edge of a wooded area, and he sat upon it, gently pulling Daisy down beside him. Their hands fell to their sides, but their legs pressed closely together, as if there were little space on the enormous seat. A few last crickets chirped their tiny songs.

"I never was overly fond of fightin'," Cap said into the night, and Daisy stifled a laugh. He turned to her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "What?"

"Never fond of a fight?" she joked. "You're a Hatfield – you don't do nothin' _but_ fight."

"Is that so, Daisy _McCoy_?" he retorted, and Daisy feigned a moment of hurt.

"I suppose we're both well trained in the matter," she admitted with a sigh.

"And really," Cap said, mischief dancing about his face. "What else is there to do?" Daisy had to openly chuckle at that, shoving her shoulder into Cap's.

"There's plenty to do, Cap Hatfield."

"Oh?" he replied, both eyebrows ascending his forehead. Daisy's face began to burn, and she looked away quickly.

"That's not what I meant," she clarified. "I mean, you can read, or write, or play an instrument, or sew, or take care of animals, or travel, or…anything really." A realization came to Daisy then, falling upon her like snow. As she listed the possibilities of life to Cap, she found that she was giving herself a piece of advice, too. There was always more to living than to quarrel one's days away.

"And what do you like to do, _Daisy McCoy_?" Cap asked, leaning all of his body weight into hers.

"I like to read," she answered matter-of-factly. "It gives me somewhere to go, somewhere beyond the place I'm at. I can be anything or anyone, and I don't have to live under our families and their damned feud."

Cap was quiet, and Daisy worried that she had offended him. But when she shifted in the dark to better see his expression, it was contemplative, his eyes locked, his mind turning over the ideas that Daisy had expressed.

"I reckon that's mighty nice," he said softly.

X X X

After a time in the fresh air, Daisy reluctantly admitted that she should return to the dance before Calvin was stricken with a bout of worry, and then after that, a bout of anger. Cap stood slowly, shaking out the pains of their long sit, and pulled Daisy up beside him, waiting for her to do the same. As they followed the sounds from the barn, they discussed Daisy's favorite books, ones of romance and adventure, and Cap continuously noted his admiration of her hobby, though he did not ask to borrow any volumes from her. Daisy wondered if Cap could read…

Around the curve of the woods, a figure stood waiting. As Cap and Daisy came before it, they stopped, standing stock still in the dark as if they hoped the threat would not sense their presence. It was tall, taller than Cap, rocking back and forth on its feet. As it inched nearer to them, Daisy deduced from the smell alone that it must be a walking keg of whiskey, somehow animated and escaped from the festivities. But as the cloud cover cleared, the pale moonlight unveiled a startling truth. Daisy's breath hitched in her throat, her heart plummeting into the very bottom of her stomach. Cap took a long stride forward, pushing Daisy back behind him with an outstretched arm.

"Evenin'," Thornton said with a smile.


	7. Seven

Thornton hovered before Daisy and Cap like a specter, blotting their view of the barn and all inside who were oblivious to the peril. Daisy studied her former beau from over Cap's shoulder, her chest pressed against the back of her protector as if she were giving him a hug. Truly, she was frightened beyond any sort of fear she had ever known in her life, and Cap was the only thing that grounded her desperation. She heard the breath fall out of Cap in calm and easy gusts, subtle and light compared to the heaving that Thornton exhibited. As Daisy squinted her eyes, she was suddenly overcome by a bout of shame in ever having fancied Thornton a good and kind man. She wanted to burrow her head into the ground and stay there, hidden, only the dirt knowing the bright fervency of her remorse.

"Thought I'd find you two out here," Thornton mumbled, and the moonlight caught the unmistakable glint of a knife, lightly clutched in his large hand. "You know, you really oughta be more careful, Daisy. The whole barn was watchin' you dance with this here Hatfield."

Daisy froze, the splendor of her time with Cap momentarily forgotten under a veil of panic. She had not even considered the very real possibility that the young folk at the party had held any interest in the activity of one simple girl. Thornton's words reminded Daisy that even here, in the most jovial of settings, she was still a McCoy, and Cap was still a Hatfield, two people who were meant to work against each another like oil and water. Surely someone would take notice of the merging of two elements that should otherwise be opposed.

"You don't need to be talkin' to her," Cap said coldly, and Thornton's head snapped, his face twisting in a sinister grin.

"Is that so, Hatfield?" he asked lightly, bemused by the threat. "I don't need to be talkin' to the woman who was practically my bride before you come and steal her away? The woman who, as far as I'm concerned, still belongs to me?" Daisy's blood boiled at the audacity of Thornton's claim, as if she were nothing more than a common sow.

"I most certainly do not belong to you!" she shouted, and the smile melted off of Thornton. His brows furrowed, his eyes screwing up into angry black dots.

"What the Hell did you just say to me?" he nearly whispered, his tone thick with incredulity.

"I said I don't belong to you," she repeated, her voice stronger, clearer. Somewhere, somehow, the memory of Thornton and all that he had done to Daisy had disintegrated, leaving behind only the confidence in his shortcomings. Daisy relinquished the pity for herself, knowing that she was worthy of the affections of someone better, someone who would treat her as a partner rather than property.

"The Hell you don't, you little bitch," Thornton began, taking a step forward, pointing an accusatory finger directly at Daisy. "You think you can go and fuck whoever you please, and then come crawlin' back to me…"

Thornton never finished the thought. In one fluid motion, Cap shoved Daisy to the ground with his left arm and lunged and swung at Thornton with his right, his fist connecting with the big man's solid head. Thornton stumbled backwards, his senses dulled by the blow, but he did not falter. Rage boiled in his eyes, and he clumsily came at Cap, the knife poised to maim. The alcohol in Thornton's system stalled his limbs, rendering his movements slow and leaden.

"Cap!" Daisy screamed, pulling herself to her feet a good distance from the brawl. Cap had sighted the knife and was easily pulling away from Thornton's labored stabs, connecting one punch after another. Thornton growled with each new bruise, his anger building about him like a mountain. The two men circled round each other, performing the dance, until Thornton's nose bled, matching the red of his stare. Cap was still as yet unharmed, his shoulders hung low in preparation of the next attack. Daisy was certain that the fighting would be over soon, Thornton's drunken ire no equal match to Cap's energy and experience.

In the flash of the moon, Cap craned his head towards Daisy to assure himself of her safety, and Thornton drove himself forward. He tackled Cap with all of his weight, pinning the smaller man to the ground, the knife sent flying through the night air. Thornton began to pummel Cap with his large fists, first to the chest and then to the head, where Daisy heard the sickening crunch and splatter of battle. By sheer instinct, Daisy acted. With what little force she had, she jumped upon Thornton's back, wrapping her arms around his thick neck in an attempt to pull him off of Cap. She screamed and howled and bit at Thornton's skin, her assault undeterred by Thornton's attempts to shake her off. She fumbled with her hands until she found the delicate skin around Thornton's eyes, digging her nails deep into him. He stalled his assault of Cap, shouting in pain and thrusting one elbow up into Daisy's stomach. She went flying across the ground, landing with a thud that knocked the wind from her sails.

Daisy was momentarily stunned by the pain that shot through her back. She felt as drunk and inhibited as Thornton, her arms and legs heavy and unusable. She could not stir, but could only comprehend. She knew that Thornton hovered above her, panting with the exertion of his fight. She knew that Cap was rocking with his injuries, trying desperately to pull himself to his feet. He stumbled several times, falling back down onto his knees, spitting blood into the dirt. Distantly, Daisy felt a meaty paw wrap around her ankle, dragging her across the ground to where Thornton stood. Slowly and methodically, his eyes never leaving Daisy's face, he began to undo his belt buckle. Daisy turned her head away, but she could not free herself of the press of Thornton as he sprawled between her legs, his hands pushing her skirts up around her waist. _This is monstrous_, she thought. _This isn't real._

Daisy shut her eyes. She saw her mother in the garden behind the family home, watering her flowers, talking to them as if there were no one around to hear. She saw her sister Roseanna, cheerful and bright, smiling as she taught Daisy to read. She saw her brother Calvin, an earlier version of himself, slowing the pace of his step to match that of a young Daisy. And she saw Cap and the way he had looked only hours before, glowing in the firelight, looking down upon her with pure elation.

Daisy opened her eyes again, the tears spilling forth like rain rolling off a roof, and caught sight of something metallic on the ground. Slowly, she crawled her hand along the grass, her fingers dancing towards the object. She strained and pulled, Thornton oblivious atop her as he tried to free himself from his britches. Daisy's hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife, and she turned her gaze towards the sky and the stars that twinkled there, innocent of the faults of man.

"I'm sorry," Daisy whispered as she drove the knife up and into Thornton's stomach.


	8. Eight

**Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! Like I said, I'm going on vacation this coming week, and I've just been reminded that our cabin doesn't have an internet connection. So this will probably be the last chapter I'll post until the following Monday or so. But I'm sure I'll be writing on my trip, and will hopefully have a few chapters done by the time I get home. Thanks for hanging in there with me!**

Later, much later, Daisy would not recall all of the actions that had brought her to the place she was now. She would not remember Cap's frantic shouting, his insistence that they leave the scene. Nor would she recollect the solid assurance of his arms wrapped around her body as he dragged her, shaking and broken, to his horse hitched near the barn. She could not recount the feel of the animal beneath her as she and Cap rode hard into the night, her limbs like noodles, held in place by Cap's broad embrace. In fact, for many hours, Daisy could see nothing in her mind save the image of Thornton's angry eyes deadening as the life sunk from his face. He had crumbled atop Daisy, his weight crushing her, and she had stayed under his lifeless body for a few long seconds, taking the pain as retribution for her crime.

It was only as the sun grew over the horizon that Daisy shook from her stupor, the jostling of the horse suddenly an unbearable nuisance between her legs. The leather of the saddle bit into Daisy's thighs, and her entire rear end was numb from the journey's endurance. Slowly, she crept her arms down those of Cap's, who sat behind her, his chest flush with her back. She gently dug her nails into his hands, hoping he would comprehend her request. She didn't know if she was capable of speech, not now, maybe not ever. Daisy felt Cap press his lips against the back of her head, a confirmation of his understanding. He slowed the horse near a quiet creek, hidden deep in the forest where only the natives could find it.

Cap hopped down from the horse before it reached a complete stop. Turning towards the stilled animal, he gingerly wrapped his hands around Daisy's waist to lift her up and off of the saddle, placing her calmly on her feet. He did not meet her eyes. Instead, he lead the horse, who had been worked into a lather, to the stream, where it drank greedily from the water, its eyes wild with overexertion. Cap tied the reigns to a nearby tree, and then slowly spun to stare at a disheveled Daisy. His eyes were dark and accusing.

"Why did you do that?" Cap's question was barely audible, and Daisy thought that perhaps she had heard him wrong, had misinterpreted his icy tone. Her eyes were huge and ghostly, seeing little beyond the sight of Thornton's corpse. Her hair was tangled, full of leaves and twigs.

"Do what?" she whispered, anxiously ringing her hands. Cap was upon her in three long strides, his hands encircling her arms like bands of lead.

"Why did you have to kill him?" he demanded through clenched teeth. Daisy tried to shrink away from this person who stood before her, this man who could not be the same one from the night before.

The rage began to boil inside of Daisy like water set over the flames. All at once, Daisy's exhaustion fell over her like a shroud, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally, too. She had rode all night with Cap into a place entirely foreign to her. She had abandoned her dearest and most beloved brother, who must be worried sick. She had been attacked, battered and bruised and nearly raped by Thornton, not once, but now twice. And she was alone with a Hatfield who seemed to shift and alter like sunlight falling over the sea. Daisy was angry; angry at her mother, angry at her father, angry at Roseanna, angry at Johnse, angry at her cousin Nancy, angry at her brothers and her sisters, angry at Thornton, angry at Cap, and most of all, angry at herself.

"Are you outta your mind?" the words fell from Daisy clear and strong. She writhed about in frustration until Cap relinquished his grip. "What in the Hell are you talkin' about? He was goin' to kill me!"

"I was comin' to help you, Daisy!" Cap shouted into her face, his expression savage. She screwed up her own countenance into that of a tiny warrior, placing both hands on Cap's chest to shove him away from her.

"Comin' to help me?" Daisy retorted. "I thought you were half dead!"

"I was up on my feet! I was comin' towards you!"

"Well I didn't see you over Thornton tryin' to rape me!"

The two fell silent under the weight of Daisy's words, both panting in aggravation. Cap's chest rose and fell, his face slackening as he looked upon her. She was desperately attempting to stall the tears that built just below the surface of her strength. Daisy did not want Cap to believe that he possessed the power to injure her pride, and yet Cap was the only person she cared to cry to. She met his eyes, taking in the color and the white. He was the first to look away, his blond hair falling over his forehead as he studied the ground.

"I didn't want that for you, Daisy," he said to his chest. "I didn't want you to know what it was like to have to hurt someone." Daisy couldn't discern the genuineness in Cap's words. She remembered his face from only a minute ago, untamed and violent. _Men always tell you what they think you want to hear_.

"Then why did you throw that first punch?" she asked calmly, instantly regretting the question as Cap's head snapped up to glare at her. "Why didn't you just let it be?"

"And let him say those things to you?" he asked incredulously. Daisy shook her head.

"He's a fool, Cap! Who cares what he says?" Daisy knew that she did not entirely abide by the words of her own advice, but the reasoning felt valid to Cap's question.

"Is that all he did, Daisy?" Cap asked, his eyes mocking, his chin pulled forward in defiance. "Did he just talk you onto the ground?"

"He didn't do nothin' until you punched him!" Daisy shouted, the words sent forth before she could stall them. She had voiced her opinion now, the accusation hanging over Cap like a cloud.

"Well next time that happens, I'll be sure to let you take over!" Cap yelled back. The horse spooked at the ire in its owner's voice, but neither Cap nor Daisy were willing to concede to the other. Both faces were tired and worn, with bloodshot eyes and dirty cheeks. Four fists balled into frustration and disbelief, four feet planted stubbornly to the ground.

"You really are a Hatfield, ain't ya?" Daisy sneered. "You're as bad as that brother of yours!"

"Don't you say nothin' about Johnse." Cap held his hand up in warning. "You don't know nothin' about him."

"No? I know he knocked up my sister and left her to fend for herself!"

"That ain't the whole truth!" Cap stepped closer to Daisy, his height towering over hers. She did not diminish; she puffed up her chest, locking her gaze onto his. The shouting subsided from both parties, the volume replaced with quiet and heartfelt threats.

"I don't care what you say, Cap Hatfield, because you ain't no different than anyone in that damn family of yours."

"And you ain't nothin' but another goddamn McCoy. I thought you was a pretty thing, but I never intended to spend the rest of my life tryin' to save yours. You ain't nothin' but a pain in my side."

Daisy was wounded by Cap's words, the flower of her heart wilting beneath her armor. It seemed to Daisy that she made the same mistake with Cap that she had made with Thornton. She had thought him to be her knight rather than her villain, capable of salvation rather than persecution. But Daisy was learning, in what some would say the most difficult of ways, that people are not always as they seem.

"I am so _sick_ of people – _men_ – tryin' to tell me what I am!" She was screaming again, her tone passionate and heavy. She thrust her face within inches of Cap's. "I never asked to be your problem, Cap Hatfield, and I certainly never asked to be saved by you. As far as I'm concerned, this world would be a better fuckin' place if you and yours had never been!"

Cap had seethed during the argument, but Daisy saw her final words gentling his eyes. Something dark and unwholesome rolled off of him then, as if he had been possessed by the devil himself. His eyes darted between Daisy's.

"If you feel that way, Daisy," Cap said quietly. "Then you try makin' it in these woods by yourself."

"Gladly," Daisy replied.

She took one last look at Cap's face, trying to make sense of the vehemence he held there. Every angle revealed a new facet of his emotional composition: hurt, anger, confusion – all gleaming in the early morning light. Daisy committed the image of Cap to her memory as she turned on her heel and stomped off into the trees.


	9. Nine

**Again, thanks for reading and reviewing. I could have spent another week on vacation - there was something wonderfully soothing about being in a place without internet or cellular access. Still, it's nice to be back! Enjoy!**

Daisy trudged through the forest for what felt to her like many long and relentless hours. As she trekked through dirt and dead leaves, the spaces in between trees serving as the only means of a path, she flew through a gamut of heavy emotions. She sobbed uncontrollably, first seeing Thornton, bloodied and lifeless, and then Cap, angry and unforgiving. Sometimes she would imagine them together, standing high above her as if she had been sunk down into a grave. They would pass judgment on her faults and leave her there to rot.

Then the anger would roll over Daisy like a wave, and she would be doused in her aggravation. The tears on her cheeks would dry away instantly, as if they had evaporated off of her hot skin. She would curse a mean streak, employing every foul word she had ever heard from her brothers. She would kick at twigs and scream at the top of her lungs, clawing at herself to be free of the confines of her person. If only she could tear through the outer layer of Daisy McCoy, she could again walk free in the world. None would know of her crimes; they would only see the golden goodness that hid within.

In thoughts such as those, the smallest bit of insanity would worm its way into Daisy, and she would start to laugh maniacally. She was still a young girl, a simple and loving girl who had killed a man and knew not what to do with the vestiges of her wrongdoing. So she laughed, and she cried, and she yelled, and she fell to the ground on more than one occasion, barely catching her fall. She would land in the dirt with a heavy thud, her knees bruised and bloody, her face full of raw, red scratches from stray branches.

X X X

As the sun hung high in the cloudless sky, announcing the proximity of noon, Daisy flung herself onto a cool and flat stone hidden under some low-hanging branches. Her eyes were bloodshot, wrung dry of all of her tears, and her voice was hoarse from her howls. She looked about her at the endless trees, trying to lasso in her rationality. _Where do I go?, _she wondered to herself. _What do I do?_ The doubts fogged her brain, easily extinguishing any attempt at necessity. Daisy began to convince herself that she was meant to die in the woods, her body given over to the plants and animals in repayment for Thornton's life. She knew he was a bad man, but she wasn't sure that he was meant to die, especially not at her own hand.

The bushes began to rustle across from where Daisy sat, sending her up and off of the rock in a panic. She stilled herself, rapidly considering the possibilities in her mind. Maybe it was Cap, coming to apologize; maybe it was Calvin, coming to rescue her; maybe it was the law, coming to hang her; maybe it was Thornton, risen from the dead, coming to seek his vengeance. Daisy weighed all of these prospects, waiting for the answer. The birds had not quieted, the breeze had not stalled, and Daisy comprehended the nature of the threat: animal, not human; something that, unlike her, was meant to be there.

Through the greenery emerged a bear, small at first until it hoisted itself up on its hind legs to survey the area. It was twice the size of Daisy, its small, sharp eyes resting on her. She willed herself to sink away into the foliage, even as she knew that her quest for invisibility was fruitless. She did not move, could not move. Her breath caught in her chest, coming out quick and shallow. Beads of sweat swelled on her forehead and rolled down her spine. For a few long moments, there was nothing in the world save Daisy and the bear. The two stared at one another, neither shifting, neither altering their position.

Suddenly, the bear swelled up its chest and emitted a mighty roar, its teeth deadly and white, each as long as one of Daisy's fingers. She saw the bear's pink tongue working towards the sound and imagined the beast swallowing her in one huge gulp. Daisy thought hard, straining her brain towards any bit of information in her past that would favor her in her present predicament. Had she read a book about bears? Had she heard stories from her brothers? Had her mother warned her of the dangers of such a fearsome creature? There was nothing inside of Daisy save her most primal of instincts, and those instincts were telling her to survive, to make it through this ordeal so that she may face the next. Daisy wanted to live.

From behind the bear came another rustling and Daisy began to pray that it was anyone – Cap, Calvin, her Pa, the sheriff – who could vanquish her foe. Instead, there came the sound of another roar, this one the small and pitiful counterpart to the first. A baby bear emerged from the trees, his tiny paws padding against the ground, and instantly Daisy saw the truth of the situation. The larger bear was a mother, trying to guide her young cub through the perils of the woods. Just as Daisy knew the dangers of bears, bears must have known the dangers of man. Daisy surmised that the mother had not been expecting to encounter a girl like herself, and thus panicked upon their first meeting. Daisy's heart began to soften towards the two animals, who both regarded her coolly, assessing her threat.

"It's OK," Daisy said gently, slowly placing her hands out in front of her to placate the mother. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The mother regarded Daisy for another long moment before falling back onto all fours. The cub was more willing to trust this strange person, becoming easily comfortable in her presence. It began to rummage through some nearby bushes with its small, black nose, leaving Daisy and the mother to work out their dispute. Gingerly, as if in slow motion, Daisy lowered herself back down onto the rock, letting her hands fall to her sides. The mother watched her, and Daisy returned the stare, until both sets of eyes gentled. The mother sent Daisy one last grunt, nosed through the bushes herself, and then turned and disappeared back into the brush, the cub eagerly following.

Daisy remained motionless for a long while after the bears had retreated. She sighed heavily, letting her posture sag. The mother bear had been a knowing facet of the wilderness, one who was able to effortlessly gauge the threat posed by Daisy. Clearly, by instinct alone, she had found Daisy incapable of harm, enough so to trust her young cub in the girl's presence. Daisy ruminated on the implications of the bear's trust and on her own human desire to remain safe against the danger. It was then that Daisy knew that, despite her crimes, despite her flaws, there was something in the world that beckoned her to remain.

X X X

The day fell into darkness as Daisy half walked, half sprinted back through the forest, making her way back to Cap and the place where she had left him.

"Please, please, please," she whispered to her God, chanting the word like an incantation. Daisy was ready to apologize to Cap, to bear the burden of her shame, to do anything that would win him back to her side. She couldn't be independent and strong-willed if she was dead.

Finally, after an exhausting hike, Daisy found the clearing. Cap sat near the creek, his back and head leaning against a tree, his eyes closed. Daisy tiptoed towards him slowly, weighing her options. Before she could decide, he spoke.

"Don't apologize," he said, his eyes still closed. Daisy stilled, her heart racing, her body so worn and used that she thought she may faint on the spot.

"I should," she whispered, and Cap's eyes snapped open. They were not angry or accusing, but sad and resigned. Daisy felt the comfort of his gaze, of that milky eye that held all of his secrets, maybe even one or two of her own.

"I don't need it," Cap said quietly. The two stared at each other in the long and quiet dark, something deep and personal conveyed in the silence.

Slowly, Cap pulled himself to his feet, and Daisy realized that he must have been as bone-tired as she. Though he seemingly hadn't left the clearing all day, there were bags under his eyes, and a whole day's growth of dark stubble covering his jaw. Daisy had been the one to attempt an escape towards freedom, but Cap had lived ten lives in the span of a day, worrying himself near to death over the safety of this girl he barely knew.

"You're hurt," Daisy said suddenly, coming towards him, reaching out her hands to the black and blue, the red and maroon, that Thornton had decorated Cap's face with. Cap pulled away from her touch.

"I'm fine," he said sullenly, and Daisy's hands lowered. She could see that although Cap did not require an apology, he was still somehow hurt by Daisy's words. His pride was as bruised as his face.

"Let's find some shelter," Cap said as he turned to his horse, and Daisy nodded into the night.


	10. Ten

Cap and Daisy rode in silence until they came upon a small town Daisy had never visited. There was a post office, a general store, and a building - half saloon, half hotel - where they could sleep for the night.

"It's either this or a barn," Cap had said, and Daisy had briefly entertained the notion. She would not relish the feel of hay beneath her sleeping being, but the solitude would be worth the discomfort.

"We don't have any money," she had protested.

"I do," Cap had answered quietly, never meeting her concerned eyes. He had openly reached into one of his saddlebags and pulled out a small leather sack that jingled like church bells. Daisy had said no more until they reached the garish interior of the establishment.

It was early evening, and the first of the many regulars were filtering in. They sat around circular tables decorated with many empty bottles, the glass twinkling in the candlelight. The walls were red, and Daisy thought that the color reflected off of each and every worn face so that she felt as though she were entering a demon's pit full of wicked patrons. They studied her and Cap with drunk and disinterested eyes, and Daisy could not help but return the stares as she and Cap made their way to the bar. Daisy had never been in such a place before, and she thought that she would never like to be in one again. On the wall beside the bar hung an enormous painting of a nude woman, sprawled languidly across a sofa, her nipples as red as cherries. Daisy's face flamed in embarrassment.

"Two rooms," Cap said to the man behind the bar, whose heavy eyes glided from Cap to Daisy and back again. If he thought the arrangement odd, he did not let on. He nodded once, set down the glass he was polishing with a dirty rag, and disappeared behind a curtain between the many rows of liquor shelved on the walls.

Daisy did not know the way that Cap studied her then, for she was busy surveying the room: the cheap decorations, the faux gold of the wall sconces, the tired and scruffy saloon girls who dutifully perched atop eager knees, pushing their breasts into drunken faces. Daisy did not see the slump of Cap's shoulders as he leaned atop the bar. She did not see the sadness in his eyes, as if he were resigned to some fate he rather not acknowledge. She did not see the way his gaze roamed the room, landing on each and every man in the place who had suddenly taken an interest in Daisy. She was young and beautiful and clean (if not a little bloodied from her travails), oblivious to the lecherous glares that drank in her face and form. Daisy did not know that Cap spotted one man licking his lips as his eyes traveled across Daisy's chest, and as Cap's face darkened, he made a quick and surprisingly easy decision.

The bar keep came back through the burgundy curtain carrying two sets of keys. He silently placed them before Cap, holding out a flattened palm to receive payment.

"On second thought," Cap said. "Just the one room."

Daisy's head snapped in the direction of the two men, and for the first time in hours, Cap's mismatched eyes met hers. She furrowed her brow in confusion, and he stepped close to her then, as close as they had stood at the dance.

"If you think I'm leavin' you in a room by yourself around this lot," Cap whispered. "Then you really are crazy." Daisy took one final glance about the ever-increasing number of men in the saloon, finally absorbing the severity of their lustful stares. She returned her eyes to Cap, whose face hovered a few inches away from hers. She nodded once, feeling vulnerable and naïve, lost in a big and foreign world save for the protection of a Hatfield.

The bartender's thick mustache twitched slightly, but he maintained his bored expression, still holding out his hand. Cap clunked a few small coins into the calloused palm, and then added one more, briefly holding it suspended above the others until the barkeep met Cap's eyes. Both men nodded, and as Cap let the last coin fall, Daisy sensed that they had reached some sort of silent agreement.

As the two trudged up the grand and winding staircase, Daisy felt Cap's hand against the small of her back, guiding her up and away from the danger he sensed in the saloon. Daisy did not shake free of his hand, and was sorry when they rounded a corner and she felt it drop away. Their room was on the far end of a poorly lit corridor, the walls and carpet the same dank shade of blood red. Daisy felt as if she were floating through a sanguine river as Cap fiddled with the key in the lock and finally pried the wooden door open. Inside, the room was large, with sparse and ancient furnishings. There was a dilapidated wardrobe, a small writing desk and chair, a blackened fireplace in the corner, and in the center of the room, a giant bed covered in threadbare quilts.

Cap hoisted his saddlebags up and off of his shoulder, letting them fall on the bed with a soft crash. Daisy stood numb and unmoving near the closed door as he rummaged through pockets, finally pulling something free, clutching it in his fist. He came towards Daisy, reaching for one of her slack hands that hung at her side as if weighed down with lead. He placed the object in her palm, and she felt the splintered wood and sharp metal of a knife.

"If someone comes knockin'," Cap said, his look of concern unwavering as it met the question in Daisy's eyes. "Don't let them in, no matter what they say. If they try somethin', you use this." He gestured towards the knife in Daisy's hand and she nodded dumbly.

"Where are you goin'?" she asked, her voice as small and quiet as that of a frightened child. Cap heaved a sigh.

"I gotta do a few things," he stated, and Daisy nodded again. Even if she didn't want to be left alone in such a place, what could she say to Cap to make him stay? They hadn't resolved their issues; they hadn't even cleaned their wounds. For a moment, Daisy marveled at the determination in Cap's face, even through the cuts and bruises.

Cap walked around Daisy and opened the door. She did not turn, but she knew that he was standing there in the threshold, studying her, waiting for something. As if his grief were heat, she felt something hot, something barely contained, fall off of him and roll towards her like a storm cloud.

"Lock the door behind me," he said softly, and went away into the night, leaving Daisy alone.


	11. Eleven

**Hang in there with me. I promise things pick up again soon!**

The moment Cap left the room, Daisy flung the knife onto the bed in disgust, as if she had been burned by the thing. She could not bear to be so close to the object that had aided her crime, even if this knife and the one used to kill Thornton were not one-in-the-same. As she walked to the door to lock it, she heard the sounds of the saloon wafting up to the secluded bedroom. There were shouts and whistles; the scraping of chairs across the floor; the clinking of glasses with every now and again the sound of one shattering. Daisy felt her composure waver with each raucous noise, part of her happy for the solitude that Cap had afforded her. She did not have the energy to retain her outer shell.

Daisy walked to the desk where the washbasin stood, idly running her fingers through one of the many lit candles in the room. She did not feel the flame. Peering down into the murky water of the bowl, Daisy was unable to see the small and faded flowers on the bottom of the chipped porcelain. The room was too dark to properly see much of anything, and the water reminded Daisy of a small pond at night. Absently, the image brought forth the depths of Cap's good eye.

She splashed her face with the water and violently scrubbed at her skin until her reflection in the mirror above the basin was raw and red. She did the same to her hands, finding a coarse bar of soap beside the bowl that scratched and parched. Daisy felt better after these ablutions, and even considered going down to the saloon to see about a bath and a fire. But she remembered Cap's explicate demands, and as events stood, Daisy was in no mood to argue with him. She was still having difficulty justifying her existence, let alone her desire to bathe.

The floorboards creaked under Daisy's feet as she meandered over to the broad bed, twice the size of the one she shared with her younger siblings at home. Daisy thought that she saw small bugs crawling over the quilts and pillows, but she knew these images were just a trick of her exhaustion. Her mind began to wander towards the things that must have happened in this bed, of the sins committed nightly, and she almost smiled at the notion of sharing the space with many of God's wayward herd. She relished that notion more so than the memory of her family home and the small sounds her brothers and sisters made as they slept. She did not think that she deserved those memories.

As Daisy crawled into bed on top of the blankets, exposed to the bite in the air, she kicked the knife to the floor, hearing the metal sing as it smacked the ground. Daisy was certain that she would be unable to sleep in such a place, especially without the immediate protection of Cap. As it were, she fell asleep in seconds, her body given over to the unrelenting fatigue.

X X X

Daisy slept more soundly than she ever had in her entire life, waking to the new day feeling wholesome and full. She stretched languidly across the bed, her arm falling over the emptiness on the other side. In a moment she was up on her feet, her eyes wildly searching the room. The sun was pouring in through the window and Cap had not returned. Daisy began to frantically pace, her restful pleasure now altered to feverish anxiety. The sunlight caught the metallic glint of the discarded knife resting on the floor, and Daisy made in instant decision. She grabbed the weapon in her fist and went to the door. _I'll just have to find him_, Daisy thought to herself as she undid the lock. _I owe him that much._

Daisy swung open the door and made to purposefully stomp out, but her feet connected with something solid, sending her sprawling face first. She tumbled over the object, losing herself in a tangle of limbs and curse words, some hers, some not.

"What the Hell do you think you're doin'?" Daisy pulled herself up on all fours, her eyes meeting those of Cap's. He sat huddled on the ground, his face as gray as a ghost's.

"Cap?" Daisy said smally. "What are you doin' out here?"

"What does it look like I'm doin', Daisy?" Cap replied shortly, and Daisy studied him for a moment before pulling herself to her feet. She looked down on him as if he were a petulant child.

"You…slept out here?" her voice came out in an unbelieving whisper, and Cap's gaze faltered. He looked away down the hall, his jaw jutting out in a small bid at defiance.

"I didn't want to disturb you," Cap said quietly, and Daisy felt her heart swell towards him. She wanted to reach down to him; to pull him to his feet and hug him and kiss him and thank him for being so stubbornly sweet.

"You didn't have to do that," she said with the tiniest bit of embarrassment. She had slept peacefully in a giant bed, relishing the extra space, while Cap had tossed and turned on the ground.

"It's fine, Daisy," he said as he unfolded himself and came to his feet. He towered over Daisy once more, and she felt inexplicably safe within the realm of his body. "I'm used to it."

Daisy weighed his words, drinking in his eyes and face. He looked tired, that was true, but not as entirely exhausted as he had the night before. His cuts and bruises, while still prominent and painful to look upon, were cleaned and bandaged. Suddenly Daisy realized that perhaps Cap truly was used to these conditions, of shifting his everyday necessities to the rough atmosphere of the wilderness, both real and man-made. Daisy began to ponder the sort of life that Cap lead as a male in this grand old feud of theirs, but her imagination was obliterated by his soft voice.

"You hungry?" he asked, and Daisy's stomach grumbled in response. Ordinarily, Daisy would be ashamed of such a physical reaction, but she was too famished to care. And when she saw the slow smile spread across Cap's face, she felt at ease with her primal urge.

"Is that answer enough for you?" she said playfully, and Cap laughed.

"Come on," he replied, placing one hand on the small of her back to guide her towards the stairs. "Let's find some food."

As the two walked silently down the grand staircase, their bodies more aware of one another than their minds, Daisy again surveyed the room, trying to remember what it looked like the night before. The walls were still the same shade of blood red, but the yellow of the sun spilled in from a multitude of large windows, forbidding any color save the one of day. The tables and chairs seemed almost clean and respectable in these early hours, though there remained a smattering of saloon girls periodically perched on the empty furniture. Cap and Daisy passed a pretty redhead who smiled at Cap knowingly.

"Hi there, Cap," the girl cooed, and Daisy turned to find Cap's face burning a violent red. He quickly ushered Daisy towards the open door.

"Friend of yours?" Daisy asked with a laugh. She had been struck momentarily jealous by the redhead's gaze, but Daisy knew the way that most young men operated, especially with so many brothers around her. More often than not, a saloon girl was just a saloon girl.

"I have no idea what you're referrin' to," Cap answered nonchalantly, and the two walked out into the bright white of morning, the day washing away the sins of night.

X X X

They found food in a more respectable establishment than the saloon, both so ravenous with hunger that hardly any words were exchanged during the course of the meal. Daisy wanted to address the issues at hand; to discuss future plans; to discover where Cap had gone last night. But she could do little more than devour the platefuls of breakfast goods that were placed before her. Bacon, bread, eggs, all charred around the edges to a delicious black. By the end of the culinary adventure, both parties were thoroughly sated, their toes curling up towards their bellies in delight.

Daisy longed to stay out and about in the town for as long as possible. She had never been to this place, and a new setting was always an appealing prospect to such an inquisitive girl. But really Daisy most enjoyed the normalcy of the sunny day; of the way people went about their daily lives, oblivious to the criminals in their midst. Such a notion comforted Daisy, if only momentarily. Unfortunately, Cap did not share her wonder, and he eagerly escorted Daisy back to their room at the saloon, even as she ferociously protested the move.

"Just for a bit, Cap," Daisy pleaded as they entered the room. "I can't stay cooped up in here for the whole day." Cap shut the door behind himself and looked Daisy up and down, his jaw clenched in something akin to frustration.

"Don't try me right now, Daisy," Cap warned, walking to the washbasin to splash the old water on his face. "I'm not in the mood," he said to his tired reflection.

"I'm not tryin' to try you, Cap," Daisy said, perplexed by his swift alteration in mood. "But honestly, what am I supposed to do in this room for the whole damn day…"

"You've got quite the mouth on you, huh?" Cap interrupted, his back towards her. Daisy's jaw snapped shut as she studied Cap's broad back. His coat was thoroughly worn and dusty, as was the hat that he hadn't removed since Daisy found him waiting for her in the clearing. She thought that maybe he felt safe within his getup, as if it were a disguise. She noted the bulge of a gun on his hip.

"That's what you get from growin' up with so many brothers," she answered quietly, and Cap turned to her, his ghost eye shining bright in the sun so that she could decipher the pupil underneath.

"You can't go outside," Cap stated firmly, like a teacher punishing a student. He crossed over to the bed where he had left his saddlebags and began to dig through them, seemingly ensuring that everything was in its place. Daisy had considered foraging through the pockets that she had spent the night sleeping next to, but she couldn't and wouldn't do that to Cap. They needed to trust one another.

"Why not?" she asked, and Cap emitted a low moan.

"Because it ain't safe, Daisy," he replied. Daisy could sense Cap's aggravation building, and while some small part of her wanted to leave the topic alone, to afford him a reprieve from the constant worry of the situation, a larger part of her was incapable of being so thoroughly caged.

"What do you mean it ain't safe?" she asked. She saw the way that Cap's whole body tensed as he pulled himself away from his task to stare at her.

"Are you kiddin' me?" he asked incredulously. "There could be fifty men out there lookin' for us right now!" Cap gestured toward the door, and Daisy turned towards it dumbly, half-expecting all fifty of those men to be standing in the threshold.

"I didn't think about that," Daisy conceded, and Cap shook his head, his voice rising with every word.

"Yeah that seems to be your problem, don't it? You don't think!" He was mocking Daisy, condescending to her as if she were no better than Thornton himself. Cap was clutching at the last fraying thread of his sanity, but Daisy was never the sort of girl to be pushed around. It was an innate quality that was often amplified in the presence of Hatfields.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, Cap Hatfield," her voice matched his, her arms gesticulating angrily. "I ain't gonna apologize for not knowin' the ins-and-outs of runnin' from the law! I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you are so familiar with it." Cap's face screwed up towards Daisy's accusation.

"Goddammit, Daisy, I am tryin' to help you!" His voice cracked in anguish, and all of the self righteous anger drained out of Daisy in an instant.

Cap's shoulders slumped, his face falling limp. His eyes danced across Daisy's face, trying to make sense of her. Daisy turned away, unable to fathom the chagrin in Cap's expression. She caught sight of herself in the silvered mirror on the wall and nearly shrank away from the reflection. Her black hair was matted in some places, wild and frizzy in others. Her eyes were huge and scared, her cheeks flushed a bright red against her pale skin. She had to laugh at the wildness of what she saw.

"Jesus, Cap," she said with a sigh. "Why didn't you tell me I looked like a witch?" Cap was silent for a moment, thrown off by Daisy's quick change in subject.

"'Cause I didn't see nothin' wrong," Cap's voice held a note of pure emotion that sent Daisy's head swiveling towards him. Their eyes locked, all of the events of the past few days transmitted through the space between them. They had to get along for both their sakes.

"I'm sorry," Daisy whispered, and Cap nodded, his eyes never escaping hers.

"I'm sorry, too," he said quietly, stepping towards Daisy to rest his hands on her shoulders. She caught the familiar scent of him, the one she had first found at the dance, the one that had enveloped her during those many hours on the horse. It called to the animal hunger inside of her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She thought she smelled cedar, woodchips, the green of moss.

"Just…trust me on this, Daisy," Cap implored, craning his neck to look into her face. "I am just tryin' to figure out what's best for us. Will you let me do that?"

"Yes," Daisy breathed the word, and Cap eased into the relief of her approval.

"Thank you," he said, quickly rubbing her shoulders before letting his hands drop away. Daisy missed the warmth of his touch, even as her brow furrowed towards his actions. He was gathering up a few small belongings from his saddlebags, preparing himself to leave again.

"Now why on Earth do you get to leave when I have to stay here?" she pouted, and Cap's face cracked into a mischievous smile.

"Because if we stayed in the same room for the whole day," Cap explained. "We'd kill each other." Daisy had to agree with the sentiment, even if she didn't enjoy the truth of it.

"Just promise me one thing," Daisy said, and Cap stood up tall and straight in anticipation of her request. "When you get back, we'll talk about…all of this." He studied her for a long minute before nodding his head.

"I promise."


	12. Twelve

**Thank you for all of the reviews! In answer to a few inquiries I received, I unfortunately don't take requests at this time. I'm having a hard enough time keeping up with this one story! But I may in the future - we'll see. Sorry! Hope you enjoy the chapter all the same.**

Daisy paced the room for the majority of the day, watching the sun burn bright in the sky before sinking down into the pale glow of early evening. She considered using the shared facilities located at the opposite end of the long hallway, her skin still hidden beneath a thin layer of grime that only a proper bath could obliterate. But then her memory would drift towards the lustful gazes of last night's saloon patrons, and her skin would crawl with something darker and more foul. In moments such as those, the four walls of Daisy's cell felt more like four arms of protection, sealing her in safety.

As the black hands of night clawed upwards into the sky, Daisy tried to sleep, but her rest came to her in fitful bouts of aggravation and embarrassment. She dreamt of the pure elation she had felt as she stood in the forest clearing across from that mother bear, comprehending every decibel of life that breathed in and around her. But somehow, the image of Thornton stomping through the trees always wormed its way into Daisy's subconscious. In one short dream, the bear and its cub evaporated into nothingness so that only Thornton remained. He came towards Daisy angrily, wrapping his thick hands about her small neck. She screamed, the echo of the sound sending her upright in the waking world. She clutched at her chest, heaving into her palm.

The room was dark save the flickering of a single candle set atop the desk. Cap sat on the edge of the bed closest to Daisy. He was watching her intently.

"That'll happen," he said softly, his eyes glued to Daisy's face. She reddened under his contemplation, flustered by the violence of her dream.

"What?" Daisy asked between her slowing breaths. The bed was large enough to afford a good distance between the two of them. Daisy longed for Cap to close that gap. She pulled herself further upright, resting her back against the headboard.

"You'll get those nightmares at first, the ones where the only thing you see is the man you've wronged." Cap studied Daisy's face in the candlelight, admiring the way her skin flushed flawless and golden in the dark.

"How did you know I was dreamin' about Thornton?" Daisy asked in a whisper, her eyes disbelieving.

"Because I've been through the same thing," Cap answered. Daisy scooted forward on the bed until her legs dangled off the side in the same fashion as Cap's.

"How do you mean?" she said, and Cap weighed her countenance before looking away. He was chewing over his prospects, considering the appropriate manner in which to educate Daisy without frightening her.

"This feud between our Pa's," Cap started slowly, "it teaches you things, things you might not wanna know but need to know. Like how to hurt someone, maybe even kill them. And then after the fact, how to deal with the way that makes you feel, or the way people look at you 'cause your name is Hatfield. I guess that's why I liked you so much…" Cap's words trailed off. His brow furrowed as he regarded his hands.

"Why?" The word fell from Daisy's mouth in hushed anticipation. She felt that she was leaning on the cusp of something significant, her body shifting towards Cap's. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up, meeting her eye.

"Because when you look at me, I feel like you're seein' more than my name," he admitted to the dark.

Daisy sighed into Cap, her desire for proximity erasing the inches between them. She had spent the last several hours in silent servitude to her thoughts, to the things that she dare not say to any other person. With the adrenaline of her crime finally wearing off, Daisy had thought of her family, of her sister, of the people she had loved in what seemed to her like a previous life, wholly detached from the one she lived now. The idea made her feel lonely, as if she were the last person left on Earth. Cap was her only salvation from all of that.

"Where did you go, Cap?" Daisy asked suddenly, unable to contain herself. She needed to tear down every wall that stood between them.

"I had to take care of some things," he answered freely, looking away again into a darkened corner. "I had to pay some people off, especially that barkeep, to keep quiet about us. And then I sat in the saloon, and I listened."

"Listened for what?" Daisy wondered.

"Listened to the men talk, to see if anyone had caught word of what we done," Cap paused to remove his hat from his head, setting it beside him on the bed. He wiped his brow with his wrist as if he were dying of heat, even as a chill hung in the air.

"And did anyone say anything?" Daisy asked, praying that the answer would be a solid no.

"Not about that," Cap replied. "Although you made quite the impression on one or two of them. I should have knocked their teeth out, the things they were sayin'…" the words fell away, Cap unable to meet Daisy's eyes. She furiously wrung her hands in her lap, suddenly ashamed of the response she conjured in certain men.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and Cap's head snapped towards her.

"Don't you ever be sorry 'bout what you can't control," he stated firmly, like a sergeant reigning in his troops. He waited until Daisy met his eyes. "You hear me, Daisy? You can't spend your life cleanin' up everyone else's messes. That's why you shouldn't be sorry about what you done to Thornton, neither. Either he died or you died, and I'll be damned if I live another day in a world where that sonofabitch walks free. I know you're tough – there ain't no way 'round it. I _need_ you to be tough."

"How do you know I'm tough?" she asked quietly. The most rational part of Daisy knew that Cap was right, knew that she had killed Thornton in nothing more than self-defense. But she couldn't understand where Cap found all of this shining confidence in her.

"Well for one thing, you put up with me," Cap joked, and Daisy smiled. "For another, you been through Hell and back without a single complaint. Even after all that ridin' you didn't say nothin'. I don't know many women who can do that – Hell, I don't know many men who can do that."

"Is that so?" Daisy teased, her eyes softening.

"Yes," Cap answered, the amusement draining from his face. He was suddenly serious. "And I reckon any one of us who grows up in this feud of our families oughta have a thick shell." Daisy was taken aback by Cap's change of tone. How many nights had she spent awake wondering if anyone found this constant quarreling and killing as foolish as she did?

"Do you ever think the whole thing is just one big mess that no one can remember the start of so they just keep pilin' on the bodies?" The question spilled forth from Daisy with a comfortable ease. Cap was silent for a long moment before he nodded.

"All the time," he said softly. Daisy's eyes met his in a shade of understanding that only the children of Randall McCoy and Devil Anse Hatfield could comprehend.

"Don't get me wrong – I love my Pa," Cap continued. "But sometimes I wonder if I'm myself, or if I'm just a shadow of my father's hate."

The room was quiet. Here sat two young people who hardly knew each other in terms of social respectability. But underneath, in their truest of natures, they were so alarmingly similar that one's interpretation of the feud could be deemed the thoughts of the other. After a few calming minutes of silence, Cap reached behind him to a parcel that sat on the far side of the bed. It was wrapped in brown butcher's paper and tied with twine. Wordlessly, he placed the solid object between the two of them, and Daisy instantly knew it to be a book.

"I felt guilty for leavin' you in here all day," Cap said shyly. "So I bought this for you. Open it." Daisy did not need to be told twice. Like a child on Christmas morning, she tore into the paper, her face brightening as she found the solid binding underneath. The leather of the cover was blood red in the dark, embossed with gold words that glittered in the candlelight. The title read _North & South_, and as Daisy smiled down on the book in adoration, her next question escaped her mouth absently.

"Do you remember that first time we saw each other?" She said without looking up. "At the courthouse?"

"Like it was yesterday," Cap answered immediately, his eyes stuck to Daisy as she turned the gilded pages of the book.

"What were you thinkin' on that day?" she asked bashfully, and Cap leaned further into her.

"I was thinkin' you were the most beautiful thing I ever seen," he replied, and Daisy's head shot up. Their eyes locked, both sets dewy in the dark, both sets open and giving. "Still are."

Daisy dropped the book to the floor where it landed with a solid thud. The sound echoed in her chest, her heart hammering away as Cap inched his way to where she sat. They stared at one another, each drinking in the fine features of the person across from them. Cap's eyes rested on Daisy's swollen lips, and slowly he dipped his head into hers until their mouths connected. It was fireworks and sparks; the same electric jolt that Daisy had felt when Cap first saved her from Thornton in the woods. She did not know the semantics of kissing; she knew only that the sensation was pure and real and right, and she easily followed Cap's lead.

His lips worked over hers, slow at first and then feverish and hot. His hands came up around Daisy's face, his palms cupping her cheeks reverentially. His lips pressed harder, coaxing a soft moan from Daisy. She felt his tongue gently slide into the cave of her mouth, exploring and wondering, and she returned the gesture, nibbling at the delicate skin of Cap's bottom lip. He emitted an animal growl of pleasure as his hands slowly slid down Daisy's face, over the delicate curve of her neck, to rest on her breasts, cupping and squeezing them lightly.

Cap pulled away from the kiss first, breathless, panting, and pressed his forehead to Daisy's. His hands fell away from Daisy's chest as if he were ashamed of his passion, but Daisy boldly took hold and placed them back again. She purred at the feel of his palms rubbing the fabric of her dress deeper into the sensitive skin of her nipples. With her approval apparent, Cap first undid one button, and then another, and another, until the front of her dress gaped, revealing the lily white skin hidden underneath. Soundlessly, Cap eased Daisy back onto the bed so that she lay flat, staring up at him in awe. She reached a hand to his cheek, feeling the rough comfort of his stubble.

Delicately, Cap opened the folds of Daisy's dress so that her chest was exposed to the night air. He stilled, his eyes glossy, as he looked down on her. Her breasts were lush and full, the nipples a rosy hue that contrasted with the pale of her skin. Cap waited, his eyes searching Daisy's as his fingers gently kneaded. She nodded once with a slow and seductive smile and Cap's head descended on her chest. He hungrily sucked one nipple into his mouth, tugging and nibbling until Daisy cried out in elation. Slowly, he worked his mouth towards the other nipple, planting tiny kisses in the canyon between Daisy's breasts. His tongue circled lazily around her soft pinkness, his mouth sucking intently until both peaks were glistening in the candlelight.

All the while Daisy wrapped her arms tighter and tighter about Cap, holding on for fear of slipping underneath the depths of her pleasure. He worked back and forth between her chest and her mouth, showering her with kisses in every space in between. He was paying worship to her body, admiring the small bones of her clavicle, the tender skin behind her ears, the coyness of the few freckles dotted across her nose. Cap drank in all of this and became dizzy with amazement, so much so that he at first did not notice the southward trek of one of his hands. It rubbed greedily at the fabric between Daisy's legs, and she mewed like a kitten, even as her eyes held the smallest bit of fear.

Cap stopped, drawing his hand up and away from Daisy. He fell onto her, resting his head in the curve of her neck. She easily enveloped him in her embrace, both of them panting with a sort of worn passion. Cap's breath came out hot and comforting across Daisy's chest.

"We should slow down," Cap whispered, even as Daisy felt the persistent press of his manhood against her leg. She had been momentarily lost in the sea of Cap's affections, drowning in the feel of his mouth against her skin. Part of her had wanted to go on forever, existing solely in the realm of this bed and this man. But another part of her was unsure and afraid of the mechanics of such a task, and she was glad for Cap's self control.

"Come on," Cap said softly as he lifted them both to sitting positions on the bed. "We need some sleep." His fingers worked effortlessly over Daisy's buttons until she was wholly covered again. He planted one gentle kiss upon her forehead before bidding her to crawl into bed on top of the blankets. Daisy did so, scooting to the far side of the bed, thinking that perhaps Cap wanted space away from her. But as he crawled in after, he wrapped one arm about her waist and dragged her to him so that her back was flush with his chest. Daisy felt Cap's breath above her head, felt the press of his lips against her hair, and she fell asleep nestled deep within his arms, a smile playing freely upon her face.

X X X

Daisy dreamt not of Thornton and his horribleness, but of Cap and his gentleness. She saw his eyes, one good, one mysterious, as he laid her down in a bed of flowers and made love to her. She could smell the violets, the roses, all of the sweet and familiar scents that reminded her of home and a time before time, when she had not been a McCoy and Cap had not been a Hatfield. Rather, they were two people thriving off of their passion for one another.

Daisy woke to Cap shaking her arm, and she thought that it must be morning. But as she cracked open her weary eyes, the world outside was still dark, the stars twinkling undisturbed in the sky. Cap was jostling her more violently now, frantically whispering her name until she turned towards him. His eyes darted back and forth between her face and the door.

"We gotta go," he said, pushing her up and off of the bed. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked about the room, wondering if this, too, was a dream. Before she could ask Cap what was happening, she heard a thunderous crash from downstairs, followed by the stomping of many feet upon the stairs. The noise was headed in their direction, and Daisy's eyes met Cap's with a fresh sense of urgency.

"_Now_," Cap demanded, and the world fell into chaos as he shoved Daisy towards the window.


	13. Thirteen

**Thanks for hanging in there with me.**

Cap's hands were gentle but insistent as they guided Daisy towards the window. The old pane groaned with age as the two worked to pry it open, flakes of paint fluttering to the floor like snowflakes. Outside the night was cold and quiet, the sounds of the saloon too distant to impact their position at the back of the building. Daisy could hear the pounding of many feet as they neared the room. The commotion stopped every few seconds, the huntsmen banging on shut doors with their angry fists.

"Daisy," Cap implored, placing his hands about her face and pulling her gaze towards his. Her eyes were frantic and frightened, darting from the window to the door. "Look at me, look at me. We're gonna have to jump." Daisy panicked at the words, her breath turning to short and anxious whimpers.

"I can't," she sobbed, her tears rushing forth like a strong current. She did not comprehend the magnitude of the threat – only that there was one, one that possessed the power to instill a touch of fear in Cap's usually confident demeanor. She craned her neck out the window, the drop seeming much further than two tiny stories. There was hay on the ground, but Daisy could not tell how much, nor what lay beneath it. For all they knew there could be a hidden sheet of rock waiting for their legs to land and snap like twigs.

"You can," Cap insisted, dragging Daisy's attention back to his face. There were crashes from next door, as if the room were being thoroughly ransacked. Men shouted and cursed but Daisy could not make out the words. "You've been so brave, Daisy, so brave. Can you be just a little braver now? Can you do that for me?"

BANG! BANG! BANG! The force of the knock on their door shook the room and sent Daisy jumping a foot off the ground in alarm. Cap held on to her tightly, his eyes continuously checking the lock. It would hold for a time, but certainly not forever. Daisy's sobs became louder as a voice, thick with drink, gently mocked from the other side of the door.

"Hatfield," it cooed, the laughs of the others ringing in the background. "I know you're in there, and I know you ain't alone. Word is you gotta fine little treat in there with ya."

A chill crawled up Daisy's spine, leaving thick icicles in its wake. She did not recognize the voice, but she recognized the promise of physical abuse brought on by liquid courage. She felt Cap begin to fume beside her, his body heat tempering her frost, and only then, amidst his weakness, could she find her strength. The dread melted away, replaced by a rational desire to survive. Daisy pulled herself up straight, furiously wiping at the escaped tears. She placed a hand upon Cap's heaving chest, beckoning him to return from his rage.

"OK," she stated simply, and Cap met her eyes. Daisy thought that she saw pride there, hidden deep beneath his fierce protectiveness. He dipped his head to hers quickly, planting one stolen kiss upon her lips before hoisting her halfway out the window.

"Wait!" Daisy cried, her leg dangling in the night air. The door was rattling now as someone threw their weight against it. Daisy pulled herself back inside the room and made for the other side of the bed, even as Cap ferociously swore at her.

"Goddammit, Daisy, you wanna get yourself killed?" he cried as he hoisted his saddlebag up over his shoulder. He was pointing a gun at the shaking door, ready to fell the first man who made it inside.

"I ain't leavin' without this." Daisy easily found the book that Cap had bought for her, the one that had been so hastily discarded in the wake of their passion. With it settled firmly in her grip, Daisy made for the window again, hesitating only slightly before thrusting half of her body outside. She sat suspended on the old sill, splinters pressing through her dress to puncture her delicate skin. Cap assumed the same position, so that the two faced each other.

"Just like ridin' a horse," Cap joked as he looked down on their destination. Daisy did not laugh but simply gripped Cap's hand until he winced in pain. "Ease up, ease up," he whispered as if gentling a frantic horse. Daisy nodded apologetically, only slightly relinquishing her grip. The door to their room began to splinter as more force was thrown upon it. The voices on the other side had turned animal in nature, like the snarls and howls of a wayward wolf pack.

"Count of three," Cap said as he swung both feet out the window and waited for Daisy to do the same. They perched like two anxious birds. "One, two, THREE!"

Daisy closed her eyes and jumped, feeling the weight of Cap falling beside her. She waited for the impact of landing, too terrified to relish the feel of the cold air rushing through her hair. The ground rose up suddenly like a specter, anxious to meet the two, and Daisy's knees buckled under the force. Her body went stiff as she rolled over the hay, her hand falling from Cap's. She opened her eyes with hurried trepidation, expecting to find herself in the afterlife. Cap lay a few feet away, a smile playing upon his lips. The hay was thick as a pillow, cushioning their fall.

"I'd say someone was watchin' out for us," Cap said before pulling himself to his feet and helping Daisy to hers. From upstairs came an enormous crash, as if the sky itself were tearing open, followed by stomps towards the open window. Several heads poked out.

"I knew I'd find you, Cap Hatfield," a bearded man called, his thick arms dangling over the sill. His voice was lighthearted, as if he and Cap were children playing hide and seek. "Don't you go too far now – I got plans for you and that pretty little piece…"

Before he could finish the thought, Cap grabbed Daisy by the wrist and pulled her away from the hotel's pooling light. They ran towards the darkened trees in the near distance, the laughs of the men fading away into the night. Daisy's heart roared in her chest in a sinister combination of elation and fear. She had done something brave, something daring, something that she had only read of in novels. It was unfortunate that her accomplishment was tainted by the asininity of drunken fools.

The two ran until their feet felt tiny and bruised, distancing themselves from any hint of civilization. The lights and sounds of the saloon and small town faded in the grand tapestry of the wilderness, the trees looming huge and dark, growing up around Cap and Daisy's flight. Daisy felt the twigs pulling at her skirts, heard the rustling of the leaves beneath her feet, sensed the presence of thousands of curious animal eyes looking down upon her in the dark. And still she did not stop, not until Cap came to a sudden halt in a clearing a good mile from the hotel. The full moon spilled down through the treetops, illuminating the concern on Cap's face. Breathlessly, wordlessly, he came towards Daisy, wrapping his arms around her shaking form. They stood like that in the gloom, both panting amidst the smell of sap and moss. A single owl hooted in the distance.

"You OK?" Cap asked quietly, pulling himself away from Daisy just enough to examine her face. She was exhausted but unharmed.

"I think so," she answered between breaths, dropping her head to rest on Cap's chest. She felt his head sink down to rest atop hers. "Who were those guys?" Cap sighed as he gently ran his hand up and down Daisy's back.

"I was hopin' we wouldn't have to deal with them," Cap began, and Daisy waited in the dark, her eyes slowly adjusting to the blackness around them. Every tree was doused in a wash of navy, punctuated here and there by inquisitive yellow eyes. Before Cap could better explain himself, there came the far-off rustling of leaves accompanied by the calls of many voices. The men had followed them.

"Cap! Hatfield!" The bellows echoed through the trees, nearing closer to the spot where Cap and Daisy stood. Cap shoved Daisy in the opposite direction of the noises before firing one shot up towards the sky in a warning of promised violence. The lone shot was answered by many from the other party, the bullets smacking the leaves like fat drops of rain. Daisy ran without being told, relieved to hear the heavy footfalls of Cap on her tail. The gunshots inched closer, the hoots of a hunting party rising up and over the tops of the trees.

"Faster! Faster!" Cap shouted from behind, and Daisy churned her weary legs as fast as they could go. She felt as if she were floating, her limbs numb from the shock of her fall and the persistence of her running. She had never run so much in her entire life.

Up ahead, the trees parted to a great black swell of churning water. It was a river, wide as a field, rushing and bubbling like a pack of wild horses. The moonlight danced over the water's rippling surface, and Daisy thought that she had never seen something so beautiful and so imposing. She stopped before the water and Cap came up short from behind, nearly knocking her in.

"Jesus," he swore as he held on to Daisy, waiting for her to regain her balance. The waves roared like thunder, trapping the two of them in a funnel of sounds and sensations. On one side sat the impassable river, and on the other was the ever-nearing cries of the impromptu hunters, their grizzly aspects almost in sight. Cap's head swiveled back and forth between the two dangers before he made up his mind, his face resolved to his fate. With alacrity he pulled a thick rope from one of the pockets of his saddlebag and began rapping it around himself and his belongings. In one quick motion he reached for a stunned Daisy and dragged her towards him, encircling her in the rope's embrace.

"What the Hell are you doin'?" she asked indignantly, even as she held her arms away from her body so that Cap could pull the rope taut about her middle. She knew the answer to the question before she asked it, reckoning she would need the aid of her limbs to see her through this next travail.

"We're goin' in," Cap calmly replied. He knotted the rope twice before taking hold of Daisy's quivering hand. Without decorum he threw his arms about her body and thrust the two of them into the angry water, where the cold rose up around them like winter's first kiss.


	14. Fourteen

**Sorry for the long wait! Things have been a little crazy lately. Thanks for all of the reviews and the continued support!  
**

The force of the freezing water was like a frigid hug assaulting Cap and Daisy from every side. They sank to the bottom of the river where Cap planted his feet on the watery ground before propelling their two heavy bodies up into the frenzied current. Daisy's teeth chattered wildly in her mouth, the blood in her arteries and veins congealing into long shoots of ice. She felt the coldness deep down in her bones as the unyielding tide conveyed the two further and further away from their hunters. There was no use in fighting the force of the current; all Cap and Daisy could do now was hold on to one another and hope that somewhere down the river a hand would extend out towards them in the form of a boulder or wayward branch.

The two bobbed in the black water, Daisy's body pressed tightly against Cap's, her fingers digging into the rope that circled her middle. Under the roar of the waves Daisy thought that she heard someone calling to her from the distance and imagined that it was the men who had been hunting them. But when Daisy felt Cap's hot breath against her cheek, she realized that he was the one speaking to her. Even in their proximity she could not decipher his words, nor the stricken look upon his face. He was panicked about something, and that panic took hold of Daisy, too, threatening to drown her. The water became wilder, like a dark and bubbling brew, causing Cap to tighten his grip on Daisy. His nails dug into her skin.

Up ahead was a slight bend in the river, and as Cap continued to scream at Daisy, his hands nearly drawing blood in their anxiety, Daisy understood the worry in his form. The rope that bound the two of them together was slipping, unraveling itself from around Daisy's stomach, threatening to rend their bodies apart. Daisy attempted to turn towards Cap and envelope him in the same desperate hug he was giving her, but the current pushed against her twisting. She tried to rewrap the rope back about her midsection, but it turned to a slippery serpent in her hands. As the curve in the water neared closer, Daisy realized that her only hope was the protection and assurance of Cap's arms holding her in an iron grip.

From above came a loud crack and a flash of light, either an angry gunshot or a tiny bolt of lightning. In that moment of sparse illumination, the rope finally pulled itself free of Daisy's body. Cap could not wrap his legs around Daisy's wet skirts, and when the river decided, it grabbed Daisy by those same skirts and tore her from Cap's grip. She was tossed forward by the water, her head undulating in and out of the current. She lost all sense of direction, all sense of where Cap had gone. She knew only that her layers of skirts were dragging her deeper into the depths.

Daisy's numb fingers frantically worked at the buttons of her dress, fumbling over the smooth surfaces. She popped one free, and then another, working her arms out of the sleeves while still attempting to stay afloat. Soon Daisy was exhausted from the dance, her entire being depleted of any shred of energy, and still she fought against the current and her dress. Finally, through twists and turns and somersaults, Daisy shed her garb like a second skin. The greedy water seized the offering, sucking the flowered fabric down into the angry deep. Daisy was left with only her wispy underclothes. She was cold and tired and halfway towards dead, but she was unencumbered and alive.

With this new sense of freedom, Daisy regained control of her fate. She reached her arms out towards the shore, waiting for her fingers to snag any form of solidity. Her nails scraped against slimy rocks, discarded twigs, even one or two objects that felt solid yet soft like the head of a man. As Daisy's head continued to work in and out of the water, her vision watery and obstructed, she thought she spotted a great tree hanging over the river in the distance, its limbs dipped down like delicate fingers. With all her might Daisy kicked her way to the side of the river, calculating the moment of impact. She would have only a few seconds to take hold of the branches.

The tree loomed closer, like Thornton standing over Daisy in the night, and as she floated near the trunk, Daisy was momentarily stunned by the sight. She panicked, her weary mind frightened by the memory of the man. But then the lightning flashed again, this time a brilliant white that lit up the whole night, and Daisy saw that the tree was just a tree; a tree that was her salvation; a tree that was nearly gone. With her energy vanished, her anger the only fuel left inside, Daisy drove herself forward one last time, her hands wrapping around a soaking branch. She hugged the limb in quiet triumph, her arms and legs crawling up the thing towards the beautiful brown ground that lay just a few feet away. She plunged her nails into the bark, let the rough surface scratch her belly, dug her knees into the mud at the base of the tree, and collapsed upon the earth, her face turned towards the sky. She had survived.

Daisy's body heaved as she regained her breath, her stomach rolling up and down beneath the now sheer fabric of her dress. She was practically naked in the night, but she could muster no worry in her heart. She smiled up at the big open sky and the soft pelt of rain that began to fall onto her cheeks.

It was only after Daisy was somewhat composed again that she remembered where she was and how she had arrived there. The image of Cap's fearful expression floating in the water sent Daisy shooting upward from where she lay. Her exhaustion was replaced with a fierce and primal worry for Cap. _Oh please, oh please, oh please,_ Daisy begged to the heavens that had shown her so much mercy. It did not make sense that Daisy should live while Cap perished.

"Cap!" Daisy screamed over the mingling sounds of the river's current and the quickening pace of the rain. There was no answer save the rumbling of distant thunder.

"Cap! Cap!" Daisy began to trudge through the mud in a sort of daze, hardly noticing the way she tripped over her soaking skirts until she was sent sprawling to the ground. She picked herself up quickly, looking like some wild and savage being dressed in mud and water. Her hair fell around her pale face in a tangle, her eyes huge with concern. She looked every bit the witch.

"Cap! Dammit Cap, where are you?" Daisy was crying now, suddenly hopeless and abandoned in a dark and scary world where nothing existed beyond the river and the trees. She could not tell which water belonged to her and which belonged to the river and the rain. Befuddled, Daisy climbed down over an outcrop of rock that formed a tiny cave, her back turned towards the opening. Her arms hung limp at her sides as she howled into the night.

"Cap!" she roared, her voice breaking over the word.

A strong hand grabbed Daisy from behind, wrapping itself around her mouth and dragging her back into the cave. Daisy began to writhe in the powerful grip, ready to bite down on the palm that nearly suffocated her, until she heard Cap's reassuring voice press against her ear.

"You keep yellin' like that and you're bound to get us both killed," Cap whispered. He moved his hand from Daisy's face and she sighed into him, letting every weary ounce of herself be taken over by the comfort of his presence.

"Oh thank God," Daisy breathed as she turned in Cap's arms. His hat was gone, his hair plastered to his face in what Daisy imagined to be a similar fashion to hers. His saddlebag lay beside his feet, the wayward rope that had thrown Daisy from its grip still partially snaked around his thigh. In one quick motion Daisy unwound the thing from Cap's leg so that she could press the entirety of her wet body against his. Cap emitted a low growl from deep within his throat.

"I may be half dead, Daisy," Cap said quietly, holding his hands away from Daisy's body. "But I'm still a man." Daisy looked at Cap in embarrassment before taking a step away from him. She met his eyes and prepared to apologize when there came the heavy stomp of feet above the outcrop. In one quick motion Cap reached for Daisy and wedged her behind him between the cave wall and his body. He put a single finger to his lip as he raised the gun in his hand. Daisy prayed that the weapon had not been damaged by the river.

"I know I heard somethin'!" A deep voice drifted down to Cap and Daisy from up above. "I swear I heard screamin'."

"Maybe you were just rememberin' the last woman you fucked, Earl," another voice answered. There was the sound of a momentary scuffle.

"Enough, you fuckin' idiots," a third party intervened and the world fell silent again as if the men were waiting for Cap and Daisy to make a sound. Daisy readied herself for the emergence of the men, convinced that they would drop down and find their hiding place. She violently gnawed at her lip, working over the possibilities in her mind. It was three against one. Why hadn't Daisy kept that damn knife?

"They ain't here," the third voice finally decided, "and I am sick of gettin' fuckin' soaked in this rain." He stomped away from the outcrop, the two sidekicks following.

Cap and Daisy hovered in the cave for a few long minutes, suspended on the precipice of worry. Daisy became anxious, convinced that the men were playing a joke on them, waiting to jump out from above and pounce on their prey. She also suspected that Cap was only being so cautious for her benefit, and had he been alone, the wait would not have been so excruciating. Slowly Daisy worked her hand down towards Cap's. He had thrown his free arm back around her for added protection, and Daisy took hold of it now, hugging it to her body until Cap turned his head to meet her eye. She smiled shyly and he returned the gesture, spinning in a half circle to properly face her. He worked his arms around her small body.

"You did good, kid," Cap said softly as he rested his head on top of hers. Daisy listened to the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat. "Do you think you can do just a little better now?" Cap asked, and Daisy pulled away to look up at him.

"What do you mean?" she said, her face screwed up in concern. Cap smiled resignedly and pulled further away from Daisy's shivering body. He shrugged his left arm out of his jacket, wincing with the motion, and pulled himself free. Below Cap's arm an angry red spot was growing on the side of his abdomen, staining his shirt like a bloody sun. Daisy gasped at the sight.

"I do believe I've been shot," Cap stated woozily before falling to his knees.


	15. Fifteen

**Hi guys. With school approaching, my updates will become more sporadic. I'm hoping to finish this story before my semester begins in September but we'll just have to see how everything goes. Enjoy!**

Daisy trekked through the night, her angry feet digging up the vestiges of the bitter autumn rain. She had left Cap in the small cave, his body crumbling upon hers in a bout of exhaustion and pain. He was coherent, but Daisy thought that the blood oozing from his wound was spilling forth at an alarming rate. She likened the stain to the red hand of the devil, the branches like fingers inching their way towards Cap's heart. Such a thought spurned Daisy on, through the weariness, through the doubt, through the all-encompassing worry.

She pitched her voice high and clear above the sheets of rain, the dangerous hunters from minutes before now all but forgotten. Anyone was better than no one; any help was better than Cap's death. Thunder shook the ground and bright flickers of lightning threw the world into blinding white that stung Daisy's eyes. During one particularly long flash, Daisy surveyed the acres of trees and land that spread out before her and caught sight of a yellow blaze off in the distance. Another bolt confirmed her suspicion: it was a lamp glowing in the window of a small cottage. Daisy ran towards the building manically, half with joy, half with fear. She didn't know what manner of person would open the door, only that she had to knock for Cap's sake.

Daisy pounded on the splintered surface until the door opened. A tall man stood in the threshold holding an oil lamp. He was older, perhaps the same age as Daisy's Pa, with a brown beard down to his chest and two eyes like black coal. He looked Daisy up and down, absorbing her soaked hair, her drenched clothes, the desperation that danced in her green eyes. His mouth fell open in something between shock and concern.

"Please, sir," Daisy began, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. "Please, my…husband has been shot!" She could not say why she had called Cap her husband as opposed to her brother or friend. She only knew that it felt right to say so. "Will you please help me? He's just down the hill!" Daisy was crying freely now, waiting for the man's response. He studied her for another long moment before nodding his head once.

"Show me where he is," the man said quietly as he reached for his coat.

Daisy could have fallen at his feet sobbing, thanking him profusely for his kindness. As it stood, she could do little more than guide him through the rain back to where Cap lay huddled in a ball, trying his best to stay out of the storm. Daisy knew that she must have looked a fearful sight, covered head to toe in mud and rain and little else save the tatters of her underclothes. But she would never have guessed so by Cap's reaction. When he saw her jogging towards him, his face broke open in a wide smile and Daisy could not stop herself from returning the smile, their eyes locked in something foreign to the man that trailed behind Daisy.

Without a word the stranger gently hoisted Cap up by his arm and instructed Daisy to do the same on the opposite side. Together the three of them made slow progress through the slick mud and blinding downpour. When at last they returned to the man's house, the inside was sparse, containing little more than a small stove, a worn bed, and an old wood table with mismatched chairs. There were several oil lamps lined up in a row on a shelf above the table, all of them lit to illuminate the work that the man had been doing before Daisy had interrupted. Suddenly Daisy understood two truths: the flame that guided her here had only been so bright because of the number of lamps. Had it been a single lamp, she would have been unable to see it in the dark. And judging by the instruments strewn across the tabletop, Daisy deduced that this man was some sort of surgeon. Silently Daisy spun her eyes upwards, sending out a quiet thanks to whoever had been looking out for her and Cap.

The man and Daisy tried their best to lay Cap gently upon the bed, but the motion only served to perpetuate his injury. He winced in pain, his forehead covered in a mixture of sweat and rain water, and Daisy found herself doing the same, nearly overcome with grief at seeing him in such a state.

"I need you to step back, Miss," the man said to Daisy without meeting her eye. His hands moved quickly but methodically, snapping open his doctor's bag, tearing Cap's shirt down the middle, forcing Cap to drink what Daisy thought to be very strong whiskey. With Cap's belly now exposed, Daisy could better see the wound that glittered in the lamplight. It was black in the middle of his side, radiating outwards to a watered-down and pale red. Daisy gasped at the sight, taking small steps closer to the carnage.

"Miss, please," the man said again, this time holding up an arm between Cap and herself. A sound came from Cap and Daisy almost choked. He was laughing!

"I reckon there ain't much point in tellin' this one what to do," Cap joked, his face half grimace, half grin. "She ain't one for listenin'."

Daisy could have kicked Cap for joking at a time like this, but when she saw the seriousness in his face and the way the flames flickered in his intent expression, she could only nod in agreement.

"You heard the man," she said, grabbing hold of Cap's hand and squeezing it tight until it was the same shade of white as his eye. "Now I suggest you get to work unless you want him to bleed to death on your bed."

The doctor huffed and sighed but said no more. He bent his head to his task, cleaning and sterilizing the wound with more whiskey before pulling a gruesome pair of silver pliers from his bag. They reminded Daisy of the medieval torture devices she had read of and she cringed at the memory. Cap's eyes held the same concern and Daisy tried her best to pull his attention towards her, cooing to him, rubbing his head like a mother to a sick child. But her mothering was no match for the pain as the doctor dug the tool deep into the wound to fish out the bullet. Cap's head rolled to the side of the pillow and his mouth fell slack.

"He passed out! What do we do?" Daisy was frantic with worry but the doctor remained calm and still.

"I reckon that's for the best," the doctor answered as he pulled the bullet free and held it up in the light. It was almost beautiful, like a jewel excavated from the belly of a bloody beast. Daisy's stomach turned at the sight, even as her eyes drank in the morbid beauty. The doctor dropped the bullet on the nightstand with a small clunk like a coin fallen to the floor during church, a small sound magnified in the reverential silence.

Daisy could smell the bitterness of the wound mingling with the oil from the lamps, and as the doctor pulled a jar from his bag, she picked up on another strong odor. It was a paste that reeked of greenness: of moss and dead leaves and something strong and sterile. Slowly the doctor spread the paste over the hole in Cap's side and then wrapped the wound in a thick cloth bandage. He pulled back from his work, breathing heavily as drops of sweat pooled on his upper lip. He looked even older under the pressure of the task.

"Will he be OK?" Daisy asked, still clutching Cap's limp hand to her chest. The strange man looked up at her, his expression unreadable.

"We'll have to wait and see," he replied, his eyes softening to a dark brown. Daisy thought that this man must have been handsome in his youth. She began to wonder why a good-looking doctor was living alone in such Spartan conditions. "He's out of the woods for now."

"Thank you," Daisy said dumbly, looking down upon Cap's face. He seemed so peaceful, so innocent, deep inside of his own darkness.

"Come on," the doctor said as he wrung his hands on a cloth and stood from the stool he had taken beside Cap. He walked around the bed to where Daisy stood and slowly freed her hand from Cap's. "Let's get a drink. You look like Hell."


End file.
